Baggins of Hobbiton
by MBradford
Summary: Sequel to "On the Banks of the Brandywine". If Frodo is still happy in Hobbiton after 6 months, Bilbo will finalize his adoption. Trouble starts when Lotho finds out. Complete.
1. A New Beginning

Baggins of Hobbiton  
  
By Mbradford  
  
Summary - Sequel to "On the Banks of the Brandywine". The story begins as Frodo is settling in at Bag End. If all goes well and Frodo is happy at Bag End after the first six months, Bilbo will adopt Frodo formally and name him as his heir. When Lotho discovers the truth, he plans to make sure Frodo goes back to Buckland.  
  
Author's note - This story will be able to stand alone, but it is based on events in the previous tale. As to the ages of the hobbits, I'm working with movie canon. For the purpose of this story, it works best that Merry and Sam are still younger than Frodo, but that the three are closer in age than in the book. Frodo will refer to Bilbo often as his uncle, although it is noted that Bilbo is in fact his cousin. In "On the Banks of the Brandywine" it is explained that as a youngster, Frodo developed the habit of calling Bilbo' Uncle' because most of the elder adult hobbits around him were aunts and uncles, and Bilbo didn't correct him because he rather liked the sound of it.   
  
Rating: PG   
  
Warnings - Some violence and dirty tricks, hobbit injury and illness.  
  
Disclaimer - The characters and places are the property of the Tolkien Estate. I'm just borrowing them for a short while.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 1 - A New Beginning  
  
Sunlight peeked in around the edges of the wooden shutters, and birdsong followed it blithely into the room where a tweenage hobbit still lay abed well past first and second breakfast. Frodo stirred slightly, waking slowly from a deep and restful sleep.   
  
He had been at Bag End for less than a week, but already it seemed a fine place to live. It was a large dwelling with many rooms, and Frodo was still getting his bearings. Just the day before he had wandered down the wrong corridor on the way to his room, and ended up amid empty guest quarters. He was sure he would get used to it, however, since Brandy Hall had been much larger and he had come to know every inch of it in his time there.   
  
Yawning and stretching, Frodo sat up in bed and noted the thin rays of light working their way insistently around the closed shutters. He stood and walked to the window, throwing the shutters wide and opening the window to breathe the fresh, brisk morning air. The sun was quite high, he mused, suddenly abashed that he had slept so late. Bilbo had not insisted on waking him since his arrival, but instead had allowed him to lie in as late as he pleased. It seemed strange to do so. At Brandy Hall, oversleeping meant going hungry until the next mealtime. If one was absent at breakfast, there was no going into the kitchen and preparing one's own repast. One ate when everyone else did, or one did not eat!  
  
Frodo tugged on a pair of breeches and pulled a shirt from the armoire. It was the same attire he had worn in Buckland, and there hadn't been time for procuring anything new as yet. He scrubbed his face and smoothed his unruly curls into place, striving to make a decent appearance, if a late one.   
  
Sounds came from the kitchen as Frodo approached, and he recognized the tune Bilbo was humming. It was a popular air often sung at gatherings in Buckland, and the familiarity of it brought a smile to the lad's face. "Good morn - I mean, it is still morning, isn't it Uncle?" Frodo stammered uncertainly.   
  
"Barely so, Frodo, lad," Bilbo replied lightly as he stirred something in a large bowl. "Nigh on luncheon, to be truthful."  
  
"Oh, but I am a lazy hobbit!" Frodo berated himself. "How could you let me stay abed so late, Uncle? Surely there's much to be done today," Frodo prompted. He hoped there would be some chores he could assist with. He had been given his share at Brandy Hall, and it felt wrong somehow to just be sleeping the morning away rather than engaging in productive activity.   
  
"Nothing pressing, my lad," Bilbo responded. "You will find that here in Hobbiton, life proceeds at a different pace than it did in Buckland." He eyed Frodo knowingly and continued, "At least that is true of things at Bag End."  
  
Frodo nodded as he sat down at the table. He supposed that Bilbo was right. Brandy Hall was a huge place with many hobbits about, and a lot of work was required to keep things running smoothly. They all labored together for the good of the Hall, even the Master and his family. Here, Bilbo and he would be supporting only themselves with any labor they undertook, and much of that seemed already to be done by the Gamgees.   
  
Hamfast Gamgee, Bilbo's aging gardener, had made the garden of Bag End the envy of Hobbiton. He had been employed by Bilbo for a long time, and was paid a wage that allowed him to support his family quite properly, though not in extravagance. Number Three Bagshot Row was not a large or luxurious dwelling, but the entire Gamgee clan lived there in good health and harmony, having no complaints.   
  
"Perhaps after luncheon we could study Elvish together for a while, " Frodo suggested. He was learning the language quickly, and their daily sessions were something he quite enjoyed.   
  
"A fine idea, my boy," Bilbo answered crisply. "Your education at Brandy Hall was quite thorough, however one is never at the end of the learning process," Bilbo lectured. "It stands to reason that you should have some command of the language if you are ever to journey to Rivendell with me."   
  
Frodo's eyes lit visibly at the suggestion. "Rivendell? Uncle, will you take me to meet the Elves?"   
  
Bilbo chuckled. "Perhaps sometime in the future. For now, Frodo lad, we will be too busy settling you here in Hobbiton. In fact," Bilbo said thoughtfully, "I had wondered if we might have a gathering here at Bag End to introduce you to the folk who live nearby."  
  
"Hmmm. A large gathering, Uncle?" Frodo tried to sound enthusiastic, but Bilbo was too sharp to miss the apprehensive tone in the response.   
  
"If you're not keen on the idea, we can wait," the elder hobbit said patiently. "I know you've just arrived and rather unexpectedly at that, and besides, we've not long to wait for the Yule celebrations."  
  
Frodo nodded, thinking that he might be more comfortable in Hobbiton by Yule. It would be almost two months before that time, and that would be time enough for him to become more settled. His thoughts were interrupted as Bilbo continued speaking.  
  
"We've much to do before then as it is," he explained. "We will have to see a tailor regarding some new clothes for you, my boy." He gave Frodo a conspiratorial wink. "In case you haven't noticed, you seem to have stretched your arms and legs just a bit recently."  
  
Frodo thrust both arms out in front of him and was surprised to see that the cuffs of his shirtsleeves rode a little higher up his forearms than was quite proper, and it did seem as though a little more of his shins were showing beneath the hems of his breeches.   
  
"What's more, you must have some proper attire befitting your status as a young gentlehobbit," Bilbo told him.   
  
Frodo examined his apparel anew and felt rather embarrassed. Compared to the fine linen shirt and brocaded weskit Bilbo wore, his own clothing now seemed rather shabby. He supposed it wouldn't do for him to be seen about Hobbiton looking like a Buckland stable boy.   
  
He was startled from his reverie by the sound of the front doorbell chiming stridently. Bilbo's brows drew together in a frown as he stopped stirring whatever was in the bowl and set it on the table. "Now who can that be, I wonder?"  
  
Frodo remained seated while Bilbo moved to answer the door. The voices of Bilbo and his visitor were quite audible from where he sat, but Frodo still felt uncomfortably like he was eavesdropping.   
  
"Ahh, Lobelia. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" There was something in Bilbo's voice that gave Frodo the impression that he was not really especially pleased to see this particular caller. The fact that Bilbo did not readily invite the visitor to enter was also rather telling.  
  
A somewhat abrasive, shrill voice answered Bilbo. "Bilbo, you know very well that we have not been invited to tea at Bag End for some time. You have been invited to our home on many occasions, but have declined to attend."  
  
"I have had more urgent matters to deal with, Lobelia," Bilbo said as politely as he could. "I have been away and have only recently returned. As to my having declined previous invitations, I apologize. I have been hard at work on my book, and there has not been time for socializing."  
  
Lobelia made a sound that was almost a derisive snort. "Only you would neglect your social obligations in favor of a book, Bilbo," she said condescendingly. "At any rate, you had better make amends. Folk are talking, you know."  
  
Yes, Bilbo thought to himself. Of course they were talking, and they would talk a great deal more when Frodo's presence became common knowledge. He sighed and addressed Lobelia again. "You are quite right, Lobelia. I have been remiss in my duties to social convention, and I shall seek to rectify the situation. Will you and your family join us for tea tomorrow afternoon?"  
  
Lobelia opened her mouth to accept the invitation, but closed it as Bilbo's words registered. Us? What in the Shire was Bilbo on about? "What do you mean, 'us'?" Lobelia questioned sharply. "Surely that Wizard isn't about again?"  
  
"No, Lobelia, Gandalf is not here," Bilbo said patiently. "I am speaking of Frodo. The lad is here from Buckland, and will be joining us as well."  
  
Lobelia's face scrunched up in concentration as she sought to recall the owner of the name. It took a moment, but it came to her. "That little orphaned cousin of yours? Primula's child?"  
  
"The very same," Bilbo responded, his voice tight with restraint. The nerve of the old bat, referring to Frodo in such fashion!   
  
"How interesting," Lobelia answered, in a tone that implied less than a keen interest in Frodo's presence. "We shall see you tomorrow afternoon, Bilbo. Good day."  
  
"Good day, Lobelia." Bilbo closed the door, then turned to lean with his back pressed against it and his gaze cast skyward. "Blasted relations," he muttered as Frodo stepped into the parlor.   
  
"Uncle, who was that?" Frodo questioned, disturbed by the look of consternation on Bilbo's face.   
  
"That, my dear boy, was someone I had hoped to spare you from for a short while yet. Lobelia Sackville - Baggins, to be precise."  
  
"Oh," Frodo said simply, recalling comments Bilbo had made about the Sackville - Bagginses in the past. Lobelia had been referred to in less than flattering terms, and even Saradoc had rolled his eyes at the mention of the name. "So we're having tea together tomorrow, then?"  
  
"I'm afraid so, Frodo." Bilbo stopped leaning against the door and straightened his weskit. "It pains me to have to subject you to the Sackville - Bagginses so early in your residence here, but perhaps we should get it over with."   
  
"Why are they so unpleasant, Uncle?" Frodo asked, regarding Bilbo curiously. Had there been a long feud between them? Some past misunderstanding that still stood between them and engendered this animosity?  
  
"They are not happy with me, Frodo," Bilbo answered, scrubbing his hand across his face wearily. "You see, they are my closest relations in Hobbiton - besides yourself, now, of course - and they want what they feel is their due for being such. I have lived far longer than they anticipated, and they expect to have Bag End for themselves when I am gone." He looked up and his eyes blazed with feistiness. "But I haven't gone, and I hope I live for a dragon's age to come, if for no other reason than to spite them!"  
  
"How horrible!" Frodo was shocked that Bilbo's own kin would want him gone just so they could move into his home. "Haven't they a home of their own? Why do they want Bag End so badly?"  
  
Bilbo smiled. It was just like the lad to not understand the grasping, greedy natures of creatures like Lobelia. So much was shared between so many at Brandy Hall, it was an alien concept to Frodo to want more than what he truly needed.   
  
"They have a home, and there's nothing wrong with it, either," Bilbo stated firmly. "Bag End is much larger and finer than their present dwelling, and they are of the mind that they are fine enough to have it as well. They look down their noses at those who are of lower station than themselves, and they want their perceived social status to be painfully obvious to all who know them."  
  
Things were certainly different here in Hobbiton, Frodo mused. The Master of Buckland and his immediate family were treated with the respect due them at Brandy Hall, but they never held it above anyone else. The Hall was supported by the efforts of all, from the youngest stable boy to the Master himself. Saradoc had never been anything but respectful to everyone, regardless of his or her station.   
  
"I'm sorry they've troubled you, Uncle," Frodo said quietly. It bothered him to see Bilbo in distress about such a thing. "I hope you live for a dragon's age as well, whether to spite them or no," Frodo announced, hoping to raise Bilbo's spirits.   
  
"Thank you, dear boy. Your support is noted and very much appreciated," Bilbo said wryly. He laid a hand on Frodo's shoulder and guided him back toward the kitchen. "Let us not concern ourselves further with the matter. We have luncheon and an Elvish lesson awaiting us, I believe, so let us not dawdle."   
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo closed the book and sighed contentedly. "Good work today, lad. You're making excellent progress." He beamed at Frodo, who was seated on the floor before him.   
  
"Thank you, Uncle," Frodo responded happily. "Elvish is such a lovely language, isn't it? It makes the common tongue seem almost harsh by comparison."  
  
"The speech of the Fair Folk is among the most pleasant sounds of Middle Earth, young Frodo," Bilbo acknowledged. "I myself am not entirely fluent, largely due to lack of practice." Indeed, there was not much practice to be had with the language in Hobbiton, as most hobbits were not the least bit concerned with knowledge of such things.   
  
"It isn't fitting for a lad of your age to spend all his time cooped up indoors, especially on a crisp, sunny Autumn day," Bilbo admonished his young charge. "Why don't you step out into the garden for a little bit of fresh air while I prepare our tea?"  
  
"I think I shall," Frodo answered happily. It was a rather nice day outside, and he'd not done much exploring in the garden as yet. He rather wished he had arrived in springtime, for now much of the garden was readied for winter, and only some of the flowers still bloomed. The pumpkins should be impressive, though.   
  
Frodo rose from the floor and made his way out the door and into the garden, walking slowly and breathing in the scent of fallen leaves and chimney smoke. He stopped and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking into the faces of two other hobbits, one aging though not as old as Bilbo, another younger than himself, but more sturdily built.   
  
"Well you must be Mr. Frodo," the older hobbit said cheerfully. "Bilbo has been talkin' a right streak about you these past two days or so," he said. "I'm Hamfast Gamgee, and this is my son, Samwise." Sam smiled shyly and leaned on the rake he was holding. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Frodo," Sam said politely.  
  
"Oh, I'm pleased to meet you," Frodo said, stammering slightly. No one had ever addressed him so formally before, and it sounded quite strange to him. He had also not thought to see anyone in the garden so late in the afternoon, and was rather startled by meeting up with the other two hobbits. "I didn't mean to disturb you," he told them, feeling rather out of place.   
  
"There's naught to disturb, young master," Hamfast assured him. "We're just cleanin' up a few of these leaves before we go home to tea." Hamfast resumed raking as he spoke, his somewhat gnarled hands gripping the handle of the rake and guiding it deftly over the ground.   
  
"The garden is beautiful, Master Gamgee. You must be the best gardener in Hobbiton," Frodo said as he looked around him. It must have taken considerable skill and care to keep so many of the plants green so late in the year.   
  
"Oh, he is, Mr. Frodo, no mistake!" Sam said with enthusiasm.   
  
"Mind yourself, Samwise," Hamfast said sternly but with obvious fondness. "Samwise here is my youngest boy. He seems to take a likin' to gardening and he's learnin' fast. When I'm no longer able, he'll be comin' to work for Mr. Bilbo in my stead."   
  
"I'm certain the garden will continue to be in the best of hands then," Frodo said politely. "Please pardon my intrusion. I'll leave you to your task. It was very nice meeting you both," Frodo nodded to both Gamgees, and waved over his shoulder as he followed the path back to Bag End.   
  
Hamfast and his son waved back, then bent to their raking once again. "He seems right friendly," Sam commented as he piled more leaves in a heap for burning. "He's a shade on the thin side, though, ain't he Da?"  
  
"Don't go gossiping about gentlefolk, Samwise. In need of a proper feeding he may be, but he's gentry just the same," Hamfast admonished. "He's come from Brandy Hall, and there's such a large bunch as live there, it's a wonder he ever got his proper share at mealtimes," the aging gardener said by way of explaining Frodo's lean appearance. "We're to make him welcome here, as best we can by being neighborly."  
  
"I will, Da. And I won't gossip about him to no one, I swear it." There was something rather different about the newcomer, though. "I'll bet he's right smart and all, being Mr. Bilbo's kin."  
  
"He just may be at that, lad. Wouldn't surprise me a bit if he's got his letters in the common tongue plus more besides." Hamfast brought out his tinderbox and lit the piles of leaves, watching them with a keen eye as they burned. "Mr. Bilbo is a scholar in his own right, he is. But that ain't our concern, my boy. Our care is for things that grow, and you'd best be payin' attention to all your old Da has to say to you about it, if you're to work for Mr. Bilbo."  
  
"Yes, Sir," Sam answered as he stirred the burning leaves with his rake. He would indeed pay close attention to his father's teachings. Working for Mr. Bilbo would be the most splendid thing he could imagine doing, as Bag End had by far the largest and best garden in Hobbiton. Sam intended that when folks said 'gardener' they would mean 'Gamgee', as the Gamgees would be the best to be found.   
  
~*~To Be Continued~*~ 


	2. Tea in the Garden

LotRseer3350 - What trouble will Lobelia stir up? Hmm, not as much as her son! And yes, I did have the name of Sam's descendants in mind when I wrote the line about the name of Gamgee being connected with gardeners!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - I was a little later getting this started than I planned. It took a while to get the main part of the story completed. I wouldn't mind living in a place like Bag End myself!  
  
Bookworm2000 - Lotho is indeed going to be up to something in chapters to come.   
  
Shirebound - I'm glad you're enjoying Bilbo's characterization. I see him as being much sharper than most other hobbits give him credit for, and I'll do my best not to let him forget that!   
  
Amelia Rose - Thank you for your compliments regarding the story that preceded this one. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.   
  
Krista - Thank you for your kind words! Lotho will show up in this chapter and we'll see plenty of him as the story continues. He's sneaky, greedy and insolent, and those are some of his good points!  
  
Midgette - Sam's got a good handle on it when he says Frodo is smart. You bet he is! He's also quite friendly and likely to believe the best of the people he meets, which may not prove to be a good thing in some cases.  
  
Aratlithiel - Thanks for being my beta again! Tea with the S.Bs will be interesting indeed, at least I hope so! Bilbo is doing all he can to make Frodo comfortable in his new home, and sometimes that may prove a bit of a challenge.  
  
Aelfgifu - Glad you like the story so far! Lotho is indeed waiting in the wings with his nasty machinations. Let's let him out of his cage, shall we?  
  
Tavion - Can't wait to see what Lotho will be inflicting upon poor Frodo? More on that subject as the story progresses.   
  
Kay - I hope you're right about the story being good! I've tried to make it so.  
  
Iorhael - Frodo hasn't got a greedy bone in his body, so it's hard for him to understand the motives of folks like the Sackville - Bagginses. Sam will be of help to Frodo in chapters to come, when he's not busy in the garden with the Gaffer!  
  
Endymion - The tone of the story will definitely change a little as Lotho gets up to his nasty tricks. Is there anyone Lobelia is happy with? I sincerely doubt it! Frodo's altruism is definitely part of his internal makeup, but he has been accustomed to a life of sharing. When it comes to greed, he doesn't see the need! FF.net's filter must have gone down, because my Frodo story was sandwiched in between a bunch of Elf tales. Hidden quite effectively!   
  
~*~Author's note~*~  
  
FF.net has had some problems with it's search engine, it seems. I've disovered that you can find this story much more easily if you use the search with Frodo as character one and Bilbo as character two. I did that and it popped up at the top of the page. So, until the filter starts working again, this will make it better.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 2 - Tea in the Garden  
  
  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Bilbo dithered nervously in the kitchen as the afternoon sun poured in through the window. He had finished his preparations for his guests, and awaited their arrival with apprehension. What would they think about Frodo? What would they say to him, he wondered. As if recent events weren't enough for the lad, he must encounter his least appealing family members in all their glory, just days after his arrival. It didn't seem fair to the boy.   
  
Bilbo walked down the hallway to Frodo's room to see how he was getting on. The Sackville - Bagginses were rather pretentious in Bilbo's opinion, and they would undoubtedly arrive dressed in their very best, expecting the same of their hosts. It was a pity there hadn't been time to see to something new for Frodo. His best from Brandy Hall would have to do, and Bilbo fervently hoped Lobelia wouldn't pick the lad apart on sight.   
  
Frodo was just fastening the top button of his best weskit as Bilbo tapped on the door. "Are you ready, Frodo?" he asked as he entered the room.  
  
"How am I to define 'ready'?" Frodo asked in response as he smoothed his curls into place. If Bilbo meant ready in terms of being properly dressed, pressed and polished, he supposed he had done the best he could. If Bilbo was referring to his state of mind, Frodo was none too sure he was ready to spend the next hour or so in the company of people he had heard so many unflattering things about. Even so, he decided, he must form his own opinions and give his relations a proper chance.   
  
"You look just fine, Frodo," Bilbo said, patting Frodo on the back gently. "Just remember, dear boy, the Sackville - Bagginses are not representative of the sort of folks you will meet as you settle in here. They are unusual in their lack of regard for the sensibilities of others. They may say things that will shock you, even hurt you, if you allow it." He continued as Frodo nodded. "No matter what they do or say, you must remember that you are a good lad, smart, thoughtful and with enviable wit and good graces. They will call you a Brandybuck, but you are a member of the family of Baggins of Hobbiton." Bilbo said the last sentence in a strident voice that sounded proud and confident. "Never forget that, Frodo."  
  
"I shan't, Uncle," Frodo said, chuckling. "Is it often that they come around?"  
  
"Thankfully, no," Bilbo replied as he smoothed the front of his weskit. "Every so often they will insist that I come to their home for tea, or they will invite themselves to Bag End. These visits are thinly disguised as social occasions, but they are in truth spy missions, meant to discern whether I am on my deathbed or not."   
  
"Well, they shall be disappointed once again, Uncle, as you are clearly not anywhere near your deathbed, much less on it!" Frodo said with a laugh. Bilbo laughed as well, and the tension left both hobbits as they prepared to face the next hour with patience and restraint.   
  
The bell chimed and Bilbo's ears twitched involuntarily. "Courage, my boy," the old hobbit said with a wink. He walked out of the room and down the hall muttering something about dragons and trolls.   
  
Frodo took a deep breath and smiled. His reflection in the mirror smiled back at him, and he tried to think of himself as the young gentlehobbit Bilbo said he was. He vowed that he would be as pleasant as the other guests were not, for how bad could an hour with them truly be?   
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo forced a charming smile onto his face and opened the door to admit Otho and Lobelia. Their tweenage son Lotho was right behind them, wearing his customary narcissistic smirk.   
  
"Otho, Lobelia, do come in! Lotho, how are you, lad?" Bilbo allowed himself a moment of self - congratulation regarding how well he was doing so far at playing the good host.   
  
"I'm well, Cousin Bilbo," Lotho replied evenly. His gaze roved around the room as he wondered where this Frodo person was. His mother had said that Bilbo had company from Buckland, and had told him only a few things about Frodo. Lotho knew only that Frodo had been orphaned at the age of twelve, had grown up in Buckland at Brandy Hall, and was about four years younger than he.   
  
Movement down a hallway caught Lotho's eye as Frodo made his way to the parlor to join the other hobbits gathered there. Lotho looked Frodo up and down as the younger tween approached, and decided there was nothing special about him.   
  
Why was he so pale and thin? Did they lock him in his room at Brandy Hall and neglect to feed him? Lotho's gaze drifted over Frodo's attire almost mockingly. Those clothes may have been a perfect fit last season, he mused, but they were clearly in the process of being outgrown, and were of only marginal quality anyway. Common, one might even say. Some fine gentlehobbit this turned out to be, this distant cousin of his who was more Brandybuck than Baggins.   
  
As Frodo entered the parlor, there was an uncomfortable moment when all conversation and movement seemed to come to a sudden halt. Bilbo broke the silence to introduce Frodo. "This is Frodo Baggins. He is the son of Drogo and Primula Baggins, and will be staying here at Bag End." He gestured to his guests. "Frodo, may I present the Sackville - Bagginses - Otho, Lobelia and Lotho."   
  
"How do you do?" Frodo said shaking hands and bowing politely, attempting to give the impression of confidence and good manners. Manners were not a problem, as Frodo had been raised with attention to such details. Confidence was another matter, and Frodo felt his withering under Lotho's measuring gaze.   
  
"Greetings, Cousin," Lotho said smoothly. "How long will you be staying in Hobbiton?"  
  
"It hasn't really been decided yet," Frodo replied. "Several months at least," he finished, reminding himself to stand up straight and keep smiling. Something about Lotho made him uncomfortable, as if the older lad were inspecting him carefully and finding him somehow lacking.   
  
"How nice for you," Lotho replied, his eyes holding Frodo's. "Bag End is quite a lovely place, especially compared to that warren in Buckland." The statement was made in a polite tone - perhaps a little too polite, doing nothing to hide an undercurrent of derision.   
  
Bilbo cleared his throat, sparing Frodo the need to reply. "Shall we go out to the garden? It's such a lovely day, I thought we could take our tea outside, in the sunshine."   
  
"Of course, Bilbo," Lobelia said, looking not at the older hobbit but at Frodo. "Come, Lotho." She took Otho's arm and turned away.   
  
"Yes, Mother," Lotho replied, giving Frodo another sharp glance as he joined his parents on their way out to the garden.   
  
Once clear of the Sackville - Bagginses, Frodo breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad of the momentary reprieve that retrieving the tea service would bring him. "I'll bring the tea, Uncle. I'll be but a moment," Frodo said as he placed the cups and teapot on a tray and began to rummage about for spoons, sugar and honey.   
  
"Take your time, Frodo, lad." Bilbo understood that Frodo might need a moment to gather his composure. Making new acquaintances was always a bit awkward, but was even more so when one was being judged by them like a pony at the Free Fair. Bilbo had been almost surprised when Lobelia hadn't inspected Frodo's teeth and checked his forelock for fleas. Bilbo gave Frodo an encouraging smile and followed his guests out to the garden where a small table and chairs had been placed in a sunny spot.   
  
"So how have you been keeping lately, Bilbo?" Lobelia inquired as always. How long was the old codger going to last, anyway? At his age he could at least have the decency to show some signs of aching joints or failing eyesight.   
  
"Quite well, Lobelia. Never better!" Bilbo answered brightly, beaming at her. She struggled to hide her displeasure, but Bilbo knew it well and could see it through a stone wall, were one present between them. "And yourselves?"  
  
"Likewise," Otho replied, finally squeezing a word in edgewise. "We've been well, but for Lotho's bout last month with Southfarthing Spotted Fever."   
  
Bilbo couldn't resist. "Southfarthing Spotted Fever is a childhood illness, is it not?" His eyebrows went up as he commented, "Very strange for someone as mature as your Lotho to contract it, I would think."  
  
Gotcha! Otho blinked, Lobelia's ears twitched, and Lotho's face began to turn as red as the fever spots themselves.   
  
Frodo walked up to the table carrying the tray, arriving just in time to hear the exchange. He tried to keep his apprehension from showing as he set the tea service down in the center of the table and seated himself next to Bilbo.   
  
Lobelia addressed Frodo as Bilbo poured the tea. "So what brings you to Hobbiton for such a long visit?" she asked. The question was accompanied by yet another measuring, almost suspicious glance.  
  
"It was agreed that a quieter environment might be good for me for a while," Frodo answered, not wanting to give any precise details of events leading up to his arrival in Hobbiton.   
  
"Did you find Brandy Hall to be somehow unsatisfactory?" Lobelia continued, with a raised eyebrow. "Of course, I have heard those Bucklanders are rather queer folk, to say the least." She managed a scandalized look as she said, "I even hear that the Master's own family works in the fields and orchards like the common folk."   
  
Frodo could just imagine how Merry might have replied to such a statement, and he struggled with a response. "Everyone at the Hall works together for the good of all who live there," Frodo said, trying to keep the tightness from his voice. "There is much to be done, and all capable hands are used as needed, regardless of whose they may be."   
  
"And to what use did the Master put your hands, Cousin?" Lotho inquired, the smirk on his face deepening. He reached out and took hold of one of Frodo's hands, examining it. "I don't see much by way of calluses here. He must have found something a little more proper for you to do than picking apples or plowing rows, I would imagine."  
  
Frodo fidgeted uncomfortably and drew his hand out of Lotho's grip. "I was considered not yet old enough or big enough to work in the fields, so I helped in the library and with other tasks about the Hall," Frodo explained. "Mostly errands and such, and even the smallest youngsters find ways to help with the harvest. It was kind of fun, actually."  
  
"From apple gathering errand boy to gentlehobbit in the blink of an eye," Lobelia observed primly. "Only a Bucklander could manage it, I daresay."   
  
Frodo saw Bilbo's jaw muscles tighten as the elderly hobbit finished pouring the tea. "Drat!" he muttered as he took the top off the sugar bowl. "I've forgotten to refill this, and there's not enough here for all of us. If you will pardon me for a moment - "  
  
"I shall help you, Cousin Bilbo," Lotho offered all too pleasantly. "I'll refill it for you." The tween held out his hand to take the sugar bowl from Bilbo.   
  
"How kind of you, Lotho," Bilbo said, handing the bowl to the tween. He didn't relish the idea of any of the Sackville - Bagginses entering Bag End unaccompanied, but it wouldn't do to be rude. What sort of example would he be setting for Frodo? "The sugar is in the far right cabinet in the kitchen." Bilbo watched Lotho's back as he strode away toward the smial. If Lobelia had put him up to pilfering the good silver, he would have no luck. Bilbo had hidden it quite securely in preparation for the visit. Lotho could snoop all he wished, but not so much as a spoon would be found.   
  
~*~  
  
Lotho entered Bag End and made for the kitchen. As he reached the junction where the main hallways met, he stopped and gazed down the one he had seen Frodo emerge from. A quick peek couldn't hurt, he decided, and he hurried down the hall until he found the room that must belong to his cousin.   
  
A cursory inspection revealed little about the room's occupant. The armoire was far from filled and the clothing hanging there was of an even more common quality than what served the little Bucklander as his best attire. There were a few books, a family portrait, and not much else of interest.   
  
He gazed at the portrait momentarily, noting the two adult hobbits and the pale, dark - haired child with them. Frodo must have been all of ten summers old when it was drawn, if that. So those were the parents who drowned in the river then. What business had hobbits floating about in boats anyway? Bucklanders, indeed, Lotho thought, shaking his head.   
  
So Frodo didn't have much to his name, then. Perhaps that was common in a place like Brandy Hall, but Lotho disliked something about it. If Frodo had so little of his own, wouldn't he be wanting more? Was Lotho's younger cousin trying to worm his way into Bilbo's good graces in hopes of a large inheritance? Lotho sneered at the thought.   
  
He turned and left the room, again going back toward the kitchen. This time it was Bilbo's study that distracted him. The room was an enormous mess, Lotho observed. How did that cracked old hobbit find anything with all those books, maps and papers strewn about?   
  
He stood looking at the desk, and something caught his eye. A book lay open, showing handwriting and the date in the upper corner of the page was that very day. A journal? He smiled. It wasn't really proper to read someone's journal, but a peek into the musings of Bilbo Baggins was just too tempting to resist, and Lotho began to scan the entry on the page.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
'This day is best ended as soon as possible, I fear. It will be a day of sore trial for Frodo with the Sackville - Bagginses and their prying questions. After all that the lad has endured recently, I would have spared him this for some while to come. Fate and Lobelia have other ideas it seems, and we shall have tea this very afternoon.   
  
I hope the boy will not be too troubled by his relations. Hobbiton is otherwise a fine environment for Frodo, and I believe he will thrive here. He has six months to make up his mind regarding whether he is staying, and I hope that he will. Should he decide to do so, I will finalize his adoption at Forelithe in Buckland. He shall one day be the Master of Bag End, for I can think of none more deserving than he. '  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Lotho stood in stunned silence. He couldn't believe what he was seeing! That little Bucklander stood to inherit Bag End, and Lotho and his family would then receive what? Nothing, most likely. How could Bilbo dare to slight them in such fashion? Were they not his closest relations? Frodo may be a Baggins by name, but he was also half Brandybuck from what Lotho had been told. Let him inherit whatever legacy they had to give him, but Bag End must not be given to that skinny little orphan!  
  
Six months. Yes, the journal had said Frodo was to have six months to make his decision as to whether he was going to stay in Hobbiton. Suppose Frodo decided NOT to stay? Lotho's mind began to whirl with the possibilities. Suppose Frodo were to find himself unhappy here for some reason? Or perhaps Bilbo would prove to be a less than satisfactory guardian. The situation could still be salvaged. All he had to do was get rid of Frodo, and he had six months to do it.  
  
Lotho left the study and refilled the sugar bowl as planned. By the time he reached the door of Bag End, he had replaced the sneer on his face with the ingratiating smile once again.   
  
"Forgive me for being so long," Lotho said as he placed the sugar bowl on the table. "I spilled some and it took a few moments to clean it up."   
  
Bilbo wanted so much to ask if Lotho had found any spare spoons about while he was dealing with the spilled sugar, but he restrained himself out of respect for Frodo's sensibilities. It wouldn't do to expose the lad to more old animosity than was strictly necessary at this point.   
  
"Not to worry, lad," Bilbo assured the tween as he spooned sugar into the tea. "I am certain you have matters well in hand."  
  
"Oh, yes." Lotho stirred his tea and smiled. "I do indeed."  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	3. Playing Games

Peony - Thank you for your very kind words regarding my stories! I hope you like this one just as much as the others.  
  
Gayalondiel - I'm having a lot of fun writing the S - Bs in this fic. They're just so snarky, they're irresistible. Lotho's relationship with his folks does seem quite a bit like Draco Malfoy's in the Harry Potter series, doesn't it? Lotho is allowed to be stuck - up and snotty, and is practically encouraged in his behavior, particularly by Lobelia.   
  
Endymion - Poor Bilbo would do well to just avoid the S - Bs altogether. I have a feeling that even he couldn't get away with that due to the rules and expectations of hobbit society. He has my heartfelt sympathy!   
  
Kete - My Lotho isn't going to be quite the same kind of evil as yours, but he is most definitely and sneaky cretin!  
  
LotRseer3350 - It's true that Lotho found out about Bilbo's plans in a way that was true to his character. You'll find that Lotho is very sneaky and self - serving in this story, and stooping low enough to read Bilbo's journal is just like him in every way.  
  
GamgeeFest - Frodo is in for a bit of a time, absolutely. Bilbo and Sam will be a great help and comfort to him in days to come. Bilbo was wise to hide the silver, wasn't he? Too bad he forgot about his journal!  
  
Midgette - How bad is what Lotho's got planned? Wait and see! Lotho is very opportunistic, and he will jump at any chance to pull something nasty.  
  
Bookworm2000 - Bilbo's ear twitching was inspired by the bit in the extended version of FOTR. I just loved that in the film. There will be some more Frodo and Sam interaction to come as they get to know each other a little better.   
  
Pebbles - You dislike Lotho already? You are not alone!   
  
Aratlithiel - You summarized everyone's demeanor perfectly. Lotho is sneaky, Lobelia is snooty, Frodo is a bit uncertain, and Bilbo is reassuring. Thank you for your kind comments and for being such a great beta!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Frodo is doing well at being a young gentlehobbit, isn't he? Such a nice lad! We'll get him dressed up properly in time for the Yule party. Poor Bilbo. Believe me, he would much rather have sent Frodo in to keep an eye on Lotho. The only thing that might have kept him from doing it is that it would have been rather rude, and Bilbo does want to show Frodo a good example. He doesn't care if the S - B's are offended. And, he was obeying the author's demand to let something happen to set up the rest of the story. ~winks~   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 3 - Playing Games  
  
  
  
Bilbo closed his eyes wearily and exhaled forcefully, his heavy sigh carrying far enough down the hallway for Frodo to hear it. The tween peeked out around the edge of the doorway of his room and smiled. "Relieved?"  
  
"Greatly," Bilbo replied, throwing a sharp glance at the door he had just ushered the Sackville - Bagginses through. "My deepest apologies, Frodo lad. They were every bit as dreadful as I was expecting them to be."   
  
"It wasn't so awful, really," Frodo answered as he shook out his weskit and folded it carefully. "There are worse things than being verbally skewered by one's relations." Frodo's tone was serious as he spoke. He knew full well what some of those things were, and the Sackville - Bagginses didn't seem so terrible when set against them.   
  
"Let us not dwell on them, dear boy," Bilbo said kindly. "There has been enough unpleasantness today without our bringing forth more from memory."   
  
"Agreed," Frodo answered, thinking back on the conversation that afternoon. "Did Lotho really have Southfarthing Spotted Fever?"   
  
Bilbo's expression brightened. "Oh, indeed he did, Frodo. An impressive case of it too, I might add." Bilbo leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. "He was covered in spots as red as a dragon's eyes, from head to toe, all itching and burning like fury."   
  
Frodo laughed outright at the mental picture. Most hobbits had a bout with the illness early in life, and weren't troubled by it after. It seemed to be a little easier on its younger victims for some reason, and those who had the misfortune to contract it as tweens usually suffered more than the younger ones. Frodo was willing to bet some of the swagger was taken out of his haughty cousin by having a face full of itchy red splotches!  
  
"The next time Lotho is being bothersome, I shall picture him as you've described him," Frodo said when he regained his composure. "I guarantee that I shall keep smiling, regardless of anything he says."   
  
"Ahh, Frodo, it does an old hobbit good to laugh," Bilbo said as he hugged Frodo. "This day has been draining," he said at length. "I believe I'll indulge in a nap before dinner, if you don't mind."  
  
"Not at all, Uncle." Frodo stepped out of his room and into the hallway. "I'll take care of the dishes while you rest."  
  
"Such a good lad," Bilbo said proudly, as he wandered off toward his own room. It might not be a bad thing to have someone young and energetic about to help with a task or two.   
  
Having put aside his best attire for something more suited to housework, Frodo stepped into the kitchen to see to the dishes. It didn't take him very long to have them washed up and stowed neatly in the cupboards, and he wondered how else he might occupy himself while Bilbo napped.   
  
He wandered idly down the hall again, passing by Bilbo's study as he did. A quick glance inside decided him regarding how to pass the next hour. The study was, quite simply, a disaster. Books and maps lay strewn about, quills and pages of parchment sat jumbled together upon the writing desk. How in the Shire did Bilbo find anything amid such disarray?   
  
Frodo set to work with energy, straightening and dusting, filing books away upon the shelves by subject matter and author. Bilbo's journal lay on the writing desk and Frodo closed it quickly without looking at the page. He doubted very much that Bilbo had meant to leave it lying open, and he felt no temptation to see what private musings the book held.   
  
Before long, the maps were smoothed flat and stacked upon a shelf, the quills placed beside the inkstand. He was just finishing sweeping the small hearth when a surprised intake of breath from the vicinity of the doorway startled him from his task.   
  
"Uncle! Did you have a good rest?" Frodo asked solicitously as he leaned the broom in the corner of the room.   
  
"Oh. Ah, yes, Frodo," Bilbo stammered, trying to keep his dismay hidden from the tween who had clearly meant to do him a good turn. "Quite a fine rest indeed. I see you've kept busy."  
  
"Oh, yes, Uncle. Just tidying up a bit." Frodo shook his head and smiled. "I don't know how you managed to get any work done with all those maps and books lying about everywhere, but they've been put to rights now."   
  
"Um, yes. So I see," Bilbo said, wondering how long it would take him to find items he had known the precise location of only an hour before. He supposed the study might have looked a mess to the untrained eye of the well - meaning tween, but he had known his way around the piles of maps and stacks of books as surely as if he were walking a road clearly marked. But now -   
  
Frodo was looking at him expectantly, and Bilbo cleared his throat and smiled warmly. "Thank you, Frodo. It was a lovely gesture, cleaning up after a slovenly old hobbit like myself." He mustn't let Frodo know of his dismay. After all, the boy had not meant to cause him any consternation. Bilbo opted for applying humor to the situation. "But I fear I shall be requiring more of your time from now on, for I'll not have a notion where to locate particular items. I shall have to ask the help of my personal assistant," he said, letting his eyes come back to rest upon Frodo.   
  
"I suppose I have interfered with the normal state of affairs," the young hobbit said, looking abashed. "Please forgive me, Uncle. I meant no harm."  
  
"Of course you didn't, dear boy," Bilbo said soothingly. "And it does look quite nice, now that I stop to think of it." He was being quite truthful with the lad. The study did indeed look far better than it had in many months. Bilbo doubted he had seen as much of the surface of his writing desk since last Yule.   
  
"Not to worry, Frodo. Thank you for tidying up. I was just a little surprised, nothing more." Bilbo guided the youth toward the parlor. "Why don't you look over your next lesson while I prepare dinner?" Frodo nodded, and they settled in for a quiet evening in the wake of the tumultuous afternoon.  
  
~*~  
  
Lotho glared down into his tankard as he and Ted Sandyman sat by the fire at the Green Dragon. He'd felt far too agitated to spend the evening at home, listening to his parents grouse about Bilbo Baggins and his houseguest. He had been tempted to tell them what he knew of the old hobbit's plans, but he held back.   
  
If he mentioned it to his parents, Lobelia would fly into a rage and simply give old Bilbo an earful of venom. It wouldn't change things a whit, either. Lotho considered his father. Otho would likely stew in silence, letting the matter weigh him down and rob him of sleep. Again, no solution.  
  
If Lotho was going to take matters into his own hands, it was best that he kept what he knew largely to himself, with the possible exception of a few individuals who might be helpful. One of those individuals sat across from him now, listening to the tale of the afternoon's events.   
  
"Your cousin, you say?" Ted Sandyman, the miller's son, questioned Lotho.  
  
"Yes, third cousin or something incredibly useful like that," Lotho replied disdainfully. "He's more Brandybuck than Baggins, if you ask me, coming straight out of Buckland as he has. He's a skinny, pale little orphan, and doesn't even have proper attire to wear to tea with the gentry." How insulting it was that Bilbo would choose such a creature to inherit his wealth and home!   
  
"The old hobbit is entertaining the absurd notion of adopting the little twit, and leaving all his wealth to him in the process!" Lotho sneered angrily at the thought. "Imagine, that little underfed cousin of mine living it up in the finest dwelling in Hobbiton. The thought makes my stomach turn."   
  
"Well, that doesn't sound like a very good thing for you," Ted said by way of understatement. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see what the old coot decides to do."  
  
"I'm not waiting for anything, Ted," Lotho spat angrily. "That Bucklander needs to go back where he came from, and he will if I have anything to do with it." Lotho downed another swallow of ale as he considered how to go about getting rid of Frodo Baggins. "I have six months to convince him that Hobbiton is not the place for him, and I might need your help from time to time."   
  
Ted nodded. If Lotho were to inherit Bilbo's wealth, surely he would remember his old friend Ted Sandyman. "What's your plan?" Ted inquired as he swigged his ale.  
  
Lotho smiled, a predatory expression rather than one of mirth. He leaned across the table and the two sat whispering for the next hour, plotting the best course of action. One thing was certain, Lotho determined gravely. That little cousin of his had better watch out. After all, accidents could happen.  
  
~*~The next day~*~  
  
Frodo sat down on a bench in the garden, enjoying the afternoon sunshine. The warm days would not linger long, as winter was fast approaching. It was only a month and a half until Yule, after all. He wondered what this part of the Shire would look like covered in snow. He could imagine waking to a perfect blanket of sparkling white, lying cold and crisp over the hills and lanes.   
  
A red and gold leaf fell silently at his feet, and Frodo picked it up to examine it. A voice near him shook him from his reverie. "It's a fine old tree, isn't it, Mr. Frodo?" Young Samwise Gamgee pointed at the huge tree that grew atop the Hill. "It's been there as long as anyone hereabouts can remember, and it'll be there when I'm as old as me Gaffer." He spoke with a kind of reverence and awe that was the hallmark of a dedicated gardener.   
  
"I daresay it will, Samwise," Frodo answered, still turning the leaf over in his hands. He pondered the old expression about turning over a new leaf. New beginnings. The leaf in his palm was the remnant of former glory, fallen away in preparation for the new leaves to come when spring arrived. What new things awaited him, Frodo wondered as he examined the leaf. He sighed as he let the breeze lift the leaf from his hand and carry it away across the garden.   
  
Sam resumed raking, piling the many fallen leaves up at his feet. He was working alone in the garden that afternoon, Frodo noted.   
  
"Where is Master Hamfast? Is he unwell?" Frodo asked cautiously. If something were amiss it may not be his affair, and he didn't wish to pry.   
  
"Oh, he's fine, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied lightly, still raking away diligently. "His joints been botherin' him somethin' mighty of late, with winter comin' on and all."   
  
Frodo looked around for another rake, but no other gardening implements lay within reach. "If you have another rake, I'd be happy to help you, Samwise," Frodo said quietly. He wouldn't mind the company as Sam was a pleasant lad, but he didn't wish to be a distraction. Perhaps he could help as they talked.   
  
Sam was looking at Frodo with a strange expression on his freckled face. "Help me, Mr. Frodo? Oh, but beggin' your pardon, sir. That wouldn't be proper, you being Mr. Bilbo's kin."   
  
Frodo was rather taken aback by Sam's statement, as he was still in the mindset of Brandy Hall, where a rake would wind up in the hands of the Master's son as readily as the hands of an apprentice from Frogmorton. "Oh, please forgive me Samwise," Frodo said, blushing. "I suppose I'm still adjusting to the notions of what is and isn't proper behavior for a gentlehobbit." He sighed and resumed his seat on the bench. "In Buckland, everyone is expected to pull his own weight, and one's family name typically doesn't save his hands from a bit of physical labor."  
  
"You can call me Sam, Mr. Frodo," the younger hobbit said, trying to ease the tension. "I do hear tell they do things different out in Buckland." Sam looked at Frodo a little disbelievingly and said, "Is it true that hobbits in Buckland like to swim?"  
  
Frodo smiled. "We do learn to swim, generally," he said, thinking about his own experience with the activity. "It's wise, with Brandy Hall being so near the Brandywine River. My cousin taught me, and it can be rather refreshing on hot days."   
  
"I can't swim, and I don't go in the water any deeper than the bath, nohow," Sam said, shaking his head. "There's not a great deal of water hereabouts that's deep enough to swim in as it is. There's the pond by Sandyman's mill, and another one off beyond that hill over there." He pointed at a sizeable hill about a quarter mile away from Bag End.   
  
"Not to worry, Sam," Frodo assured him. "If you've naught to swim in, why trouble yourself with learning how?" He smiled as he made a suggestion. "I could show you if you ever want to try."   
  
Sam smiled back but shook his head emphatically. "No, thank you, Mr. Frodo. I'll stick to the earth under me feet, as I won't be sinkin' in it, like as not." Sam seemed to be a friendly lad, and Frodo was glad to have met him. He had not had much time for making friends as yet, and he was glad of a friendly person to talk to. Even so, Sam obviously had work to do, and Frodo didn't want to keep him with idle banter.  
  
"When you see Uncle Bilbo, will you tell him I've gone for a walk? I'm going to do a little exploring for a while," Frodo said, looking at the path beyond the gate. Sam nodded, and Frodo bade him farewell with a smile and a wave.   
  
Frodo's feet crunched on the dry leaves as he followed the path that led into the heart of Hobbiton. A flock of geese flew above him noisily, seeking the warmer southern climate, and he could hear the sound of voices raised in laughter and shouts of challenge nearby as some young hobbits engaged in a game of some sort.   
  
As Frodo rounded a bend in the path, the players came into view. A group of hobbits, mostly tweenage lads, were playing a game with a ball. They were running, laughing and roughhousing, and generally having a good time. Frodo paused to watch and was startled to hear someone calling his name.  
  
"Frodo! Hey, everyone, it's my cousin Frodo, visiting from Buckland." Lotho called out, gesturing toward where Frodo stood on the path. "Come and join us, Cousin."  
  
Lotho seemed friendlier today, Frodo thought. Had he just been out of sorts at tea the day before? One mustn't judge another merely upon a first impression, Frodo reminded himself, and acknowledged Lotho's summons with a wave. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.   
  
"It's a game we like to play sometimes," Lotho explained. "We don't usually let the younger lads play because it can get a little rough, but you're big enough to handle it, I'll warrant." Lotho again looked Frodo up and down, measuring, calculating. "You split into teams and each team tries to get the ball to the goal without dropping it. You can throw it or hand it to a teammate, and the other team tries to intercept it or knock it out of your hands before you can throw it. If you drop it, the ball goes to the other team."  
  
The game sounded simple enough, and the other lads were having a lot of fun. "You can join my team," Lotho suggested. "Togo was just about to leave, so that will make us even."   
  
"All right, I'll have a go at it," Frodo said gamely. He positioned himself among the other members of the team as play began, and before long he was quite involved in the game. He caught and passed the ball quickly and accurately, even scoring a point or two himself.   
  
The ball passed to the other team, and they readied their offense as Frodo and Lotho stood waiting. A lad on the other team put the ball in play with a sturdy throw, and the young hobbits moved it down the field of play little by little. A stout lad with auburn hair and freckles chanced a long, hard throw downfield toward a teammate, and Frodo moved to intercept. Lotho noted his cousin's direction, and that Frodo's eyes were on the ball and nowhere else. Perfect.   
  
As the ball came down, Lotho made a show of looking up at it and running backwards with his hands stretched out toward it. He knew Frodo was running forward toward it as well, and if he got his position just right -   
  
Wham! As Lotho propelled himself backward and Frodo came forward, the two collided violently and ended up in a pile of arms and legs on the ground. Frodo, being smaller, got the worst of it as he lay winded and gasping under Lotho's weight.   
  
"Frodo, forgive me," Lotho said as he dusted himself off. "I didn't know you were there, Cousin."   
  
Frodo tried to frame a reply, but the air had been forced from his lungs by the impact. His ribs felt like a troll had stepped on them, and he struggled to raise himself into a sitting position. "I'm all right, Lotho," he said between gasps. "I just need to catch my breath."   
  
Lotho extended a hand and pulled Frodo to his feet. "Perhaps you should sit this round out, Frodo," he suggested. "You look a little pale, if you don't mind my saying so."  
  
Frodo cringed as Lotho pulled him upward. That was a hard hit, he realized, and he felt a little dizzy. His side ached terribly from the blow, and each breath brought a stab of pain. "I think you're quite right, Lotho. I think I'm out of the game," Frodo acknowledged. He shook hands with the other youths and waved gingerly as he turned to walk back up the path to Bag End.   
  
Lotho grinned. He didn't know if he'd hit Frodo hard enough to crack any ribs, but the little Bucklander would surely have an enormous bruise and some soreness from the encounter. He wondered what the Master of Buckland would have to say when he got word of these little accidents in the months to come. Surely he'd be checking up on Frodo to see how he was faring. How fit a guardian could old Bilbo be, allowing his young charge to get himself hurt all the time? Yes, Frodo Baggins would not be long in Hobbiton, Lotho was certain. He went back to the game with energy, almost wishing that Frodo had not been finished off with one hit. Still, he doubted if the same trick would work twice in one day.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	4. Showing One's True Colors

FrodoBaggins1982 - Lotho knows nothing of how Frodo ended up in Hobbiton, or what it would take to convince Saradoc to take him back to Buckland. He's assuming this will be easy, but I don't think so.  
  
Endymion - "Southfarthing Spotted Fever", or chicken pox to you and me. Frodo is still trying his best to give his cousin the benefit of the doubt, but how long can he go on trying? Bilbo is less easily convinced.  
  
QTPie2488 - Good to see you again! You didn't miss much before you found the story. Lotho is a dirty rat for sure!  
  
Shirebound - Your reviews got through just fine, thank you! Those darn nasty S - B's are still stirring the pot! We'll see how badly Frodo was hurt in that game.   
  
LotRseer3350 - Lotho plays dirty indeed, and this is just the first in a series of nasty tricks!  
  
FantasyFan - I've been quite frustrated with the search problems at ff.net myself. I can't find any of the stories I'm following without a massive effort. Lotho is indeed attacking on two levels, trying to scare Frodo by hurting him and trying to make Bilbo look incompetent. He is just a tween, and thinks like one. Will his plan work? Time will tell!  
  
Tavion - Lotho is definitely a rather cunning sort. He's planning to be a problem for Frodo for sure.   
  
Amelia Rose - If I could get my hands on Lotho, I'd want to teach him a lesson too. Maybe by the end of this fic I'll get the chance to try.   
  
Pebbles - Poor Bilbo will have to gradually re - mess his study again. That was inspired by the scenes in the extended version of FOTR when we can see that Bag End is, well, a mess. If you hate Lotho now, just wait. More tweenage snarkiness to come.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 4 - Showing One's True Colors  
  
Frodo stepped out of his room and padded down the hallway on his way to the kitchen. He walked slowly, trying to look as if nothing pained him, but he bore a large, dark bruise on his side where he and Lotho had collided during the game. It had been a couple of days, and as the time had passed, the bruise became darker and his side more tender. Bilbo would worry and fret if he knew, so Frodo had hidden his discomfort as best he could.  
  
He turned the corner and emerged from the hallway just as Bilbo was coming out of the kitchen, and the two ran right into each other. Frodo gasped and doubled over, nearly falling. Bilbo dropped the stack of linens he had been carrying and caught Frodo in time to keep him from hitting the floor. A look of deep concern and fear was in his eyes.  
  
"Frodo, lad! What's wrong?" Bilbo guided Frodo slowly and carefully to a chair. "Are you ill?"  
  
"No Uncle, just a little sore, I suppose," Frodo said, his hand moving instinctively to his side. "It's nothing, just a minor accident."   
  
Bilbo moved Frodo's hand aside and carefully pulled his shirttails clear of his breeches. He lifted the shirt and exposed a large, nasty bruise over the tween's ribs. It was a horrifying purple against the pale skin, fading to a greenish hue around the edges and was still swollen.   
  
"Stars, lad! How did this happen to you?" Bilbo pulled up a chair for himself and waited for Frodo to explain.  
  
"A game of toss - ball the other day. Lotho and I weren't looking and we ran into each other." Frodo shrugged. It was just one of those things that could happen when a bunch of tweens got together to play a vigorous game.   
  
"You were playing toss - ball with Lotho?" Bilbo's voice betrayed his surprise. He hadn't thought that Lotho would have much to do with Frodo by the cool reception the lad had received from him at tea.   
  
"I went for a walk and saw him playing the game with a group of tweens. He introduced me to them and asked if I wanted to join in." Frodo recalled the rather friendly way Lotho had spoken to him, waving and calling his name like an old friend. "He was being quite pleasant, really."  
  
"So he pleasantly asked you to join in, then ran you down like a herd of oliphaunts a few minutes later?" Bilbo asked, still extremely suspicious of Lotho. Since when was Lotho able to be accused of being friendly or pleasant?   
  
"I don't think he did it on purpose, Uncle," Frodo answered honestly. He really did feel that it had just happened because they were both so intent on catching the ball. "The ball was coming down between us and we both tried to catch it. We ended up colliding with each other instead."  
  
"Well did he at least apologize?" Bilbo grumbled, not willing to accept the idea of a Sackville - Baggins acting like a decent citizen.   
  
"He did indeed," Frodo confirmed. "He helped me up and said he was sorry, Uncle. I'll not hold it against him, although I surely got the worse of it."   
  
"That cannot be disputed." Bilbo stood up. "You just be still while I go and get some ice." Something nagged at the elder hobbit and he stopped to address Frodo again. "Why didn't you mention this when it happened?"  
  
Frodo looked at his toes. Old habits were hard to break. "I didn't want to worry you with it, I suppose." At the look of exasperation on Bilbo's face, he continued, "You have other things on your mind as well, and I didn't think it worth mentioning."  
  
"Not worth mentioning? Lad, if you get a sliver in your finger, I want to know about it." Bilbo's tone was stern, but caring lay in it also. "This isn't Brandy Hall. I don't have fifty other tweens demanding or needing my immediate attention. What matters to me is that you remain safe and happy here. Do you understand?"  
  
Frodo nodded. "Yes, Uncle. I promise I won't keep anything like this from you again."  
  
"Good," Bilbo said with a nod. "Now, some ice." He went immediately to the cellar, his mind working feverishly the entire time. Since when did Lotho apologize to anyone for anything he was partly responsible for causing? Was it possible for the lad to change his ways? Bilbo scowled. A thorn bush would always be a thorn bush, even if it bloomed from time to time, he thought grimly. Something about all this sat wrong with him, but Frodo seemed sure there was naught to worry about. If the lad could bear his injury charitably and with good humor, he supposed he owed it to him to keep his suspicious nature under control.   
  
~*~Brandy Hall, a few days after~*~  
  
"I got a letter from Frodo!" Merry burst into the parlor, his enthusiasm pouring forth like a springtime flood over the river banks. Frodo had only been gone a short while, but it had seemed like months to Merry. He missed his favorite cousin even more than he had thought he would, and hearing from him was the next best thing to having him there.   
  
"And how is he faring?" Saradoc asked as he turned his full attention to his son.   
  
Merry plopped down into a chair and unfolded the letter. "Very well, he says. He says Bag End is enormous and sometimes almost too quiet after Brandy Hall."   
  
Saradoc laughed. He could just imagine how strange it must be for Frodo to walk into a room and not hear many voices chattering all at once, or to make his way down a corridor without bumping into countless relatives coming and going. "What else does he say?"  
  
Merry's eyes scanned farther down the page and a small frown creased his brow. "The Sackville - Bagginses came to tea, and Frodo had to meet them. They were rude and nosy, Da." Merry looked up and scowled. "Frodo doesn't need them on his back. I hope they just leave him alone!"  
  
"They are rather abrasive, I admit," Saradoc said thoughtfully. "As to whether they'll leave him be or not, time will tell. I wonder if Bilbo has told them of his plans to adopt Frodo." Saradoc had told Merry of the plan, but had sworn him to utter secrecy. Merry had been as good as his word, telling no one, especially Frodo. He wanted to see how surprised Frodo would be when Bilbo made his announcement at Forelithe.   
  
"So what if he has?" Merry said sharply. "And why would they bother Frodo about something like that?"   
  
It was Saradoc's turn to frown. "Well, Merry, they are Bilbo's closest relations, closer even than Frodo, if all family ties are considered. They are likely under the impression that Bilbo will leave all that he owns, including Bag End to them someday. If Bilbo adopts Frodo, that could seriously jeopardize their chances of laying their hands on any of it."   
  
Merry looked worried. "They'd probably be very upset, wouldn't they? Do you think they'll trouble Frodo over it?"  
  
"Hard to say, lad," Saradoc replied quietly. "I don't know about Otho and Lobelia, but they have a son a few years Frodo's senior who isn't known for being especially friendly or charitable. Lotho might very well be someone to keep an eye on."  
  
Merry read further and his eyes grew large. When he spoke again, it was with an anxious tone. "Frodo has already met up with Lotho, Da. Lotho invited him into a game of toss - ball, and they smashed into each other while trying to make a catch. Frodo says he got a pretty bad bruise out of it."  
  
"Frodo should be careful when participating in those rough games," Saradoc stated. "Some of those boys are likely to be bigger than he is and they don't know their own strength."   
  
"Do you think Lotho did it on purpose?" Merry watched his father's face for some kind of reaction that would confirm his fears.   
  
"Hard to say, lad. I wasn't there when it happened." He rubbed at his jaw as he considered. "Still, if I were Frodo, I would be wary of him."  
  
"Me too. I'm going to tell Frodo to stay away from him." Merry nodded curtly. "He may not listen, but I'm still going to warn him."  
  
"Share your feelings with him, certainly. Just be prepared, Merry." Saradoc gave his son a serious look. "Frodo may not heed your advice, and you mustn't be insulted if he doesn't. He's a tween now, and if he follows the usual pattern, he will keep his own counsel regarding who he takes as his companions."  
  
Merry read on and a relieved smile crossed his face. "Well this sounds better. The Gamgees, who keep Uncle Bilbo's garden for him, seem to have made a good impression on Frodo. He says their youngest son, Samwise is a very friendly fellow a near to my age. Frodo says he's a nice lad and very polite. Maybe they'll be friends."  
  
"Let us hope so," Saradoc said with a smile. "When you write back to him, tell him I said hello, and to warn Bilbo that I'll come for Frodo myself if he doesn't take proper care of him!" A teasing note had come into Saradoc's voice.  
  
Merry grinned. "I'll tell him, Da." He knew his father wasn't serious. Besides, Bilbo would take excellent care of Frodo. Merry gave his father a quick hug, then bounded from the room to find paper and quill so he could pen an answer to the letter.  
  
Saradoc stood lost in thought after Merry's exit. Bilbo had not likely divulged his plans to adopt Frodo and name him as his heir. The situation was indeed somewhat delicate, and the natures of the people involved could be genuinely volatile. Frodo was in the middle of it all, and when or if the storm broke, it could be an uncomfortable position for him.   
  
The Master of Buckland sighed and took up the book he had been reading. He would trust to Bilbo's keen intuition, and await further reports from Frodo. He knew how much Bilbo cared for the boy, and Saradoc was confident that the elderly gentlehobbit wouldn't do anything to put Frodo in harm's way.  
  
~*~  
  
Lotho lay back on the sofa, brooding. He rubbed at his elbow absently, feeling the slightly sore spot that resulted from his crashing into Frodo during the game. A small price to pay for such satisfaction, he mused. Frodo had to be feeling much worse, for Lotho had made sure to jab his elbow into his cousin's ribs as he fell atop him. "Take that, Bucklander brat," he muttered to the otherwise empty room.   
  
He had plans to make. The game had been just a warning, just the first in a series of possible actions he might take against Frodo. And best of all, the fool had genuinely believed that the hit was accidental! So trusting, the sweet little orphan who stood between him and his legacy. All the better, he realized with a grin. The more Frodo trusted him, the closer Lotho could get and the more 'accidents' he could cause.   
  
He'd have to watch his step around old Bilbo, of course. Bilbo didn't trust him at all. Not him, or any of his family, it seemed. Why, he had even gone so far as to accuse Lotho's mother of stealing some silver spoons! The nerve of the old fool! Lotho would be careful not to let the old hobbit see him at his tricks, that was certain. Bilbo couldn't stand guard over Frodo night and day, could he?   
  
"Ahh, Frodo, my little cousin, you're a burr in my breeches," Lotho muttered. "I'll get you out yet, mark me." He made a rude gesture in the general direction of Bag End and rose from the sofa.   
  
He penned a quick note to his parents to let them know of his whereabouts and headed out the door for an ale at the Green Dragon. Perhaps Ted would be there. Ted wasn't very smart, nor was he much above common, really. Being the miller's son gave him a certain amount of status, but one couldn't describe Ted Sandyman as gentry by any stretch. Normally, Lotho wouldn't have cared to spend his time around such individuals, but there was something to be said for one's friends not being quite one's equals. It made one look better by comparison.   
  
He wondered if Frodo had figured out that trick. No, he decided. Not Frodo. That Bucklander would likely genuinely befriend anyone, giving no thought to how it might affect him or his status. Bucklanders were strange that way, he mused. They didn't seem to care much for certain social conventions, nor did old Bilbo for that matter.   
  
Lotho strode down the path, grinning at the prospect of getting the better of Frodo again. Soon, he vowed. Just let me catch you looking in the other direction, rat. Opportunity was all he awaited, and he was sure it was just around the corner.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	5. Accidents Can Happen

Shirebound - I'd better bring it on before you bite all your nails off! I'm a nail biter, and I've been chewing on mine as a result of some of the fic around here!   
  
Midgette - Don't worry if you miss reviewing a chapter here and there. Busy time of year for some of us, and the site is so goofed up it requires a huge amount of patience to hunt for a particular story right now! Thanks for reading it!  
  
Endymion - Tweens are so secretive, aren't they? Let's hope Frodo doesn't hold back anything 'important'. Frodo could figure on Merry telling Saradoc all that was in his letter, but Saradoc still has faith in Bilbo's ability to be a good guardian for Frodo. The events in Bree and Bilbo's response to them helped to quiet his doubts. A burr is like a thorn. It's a spiky thing on a plant that can get stuck in your clothing and prickle the heck out of you. If you ever come to Idaho, remind me to warn you about cheet grass. Get that in your socks, and you'll be wanting it out.   
  
Aratlithiel - I'm dreaming of the day when the search criteria will be straightened out. If you miss the next chapter, I'll send you a 'where have you been', as requested. Merry is still looking out for his cousin, and Bilbo is pretty sharp. Lotho's behavior is a little perplexing to him at times, though. Been a while since he's been a tween, so he may have a hard time thinking like one, especially a nasty one like Lotho!  
  
Krista - If you want a good idea of what Lotho looks like, I recommend that you check out the following link - http://www.willow-wode.net/AdultFanfic/RoPFamilyAlbum.htm  
  
Willow - Wode is not only one of the best fanfic writers in existence, she is also a magnificent artist! She has drawn many of the main characters from her work in progress, Rites of Passage. If you haven't read it you should. I cannot think of Lotho now and see anything besides her portrait of the S - Bs. From Harry Potter I think you're thinking of Draco. Lotho and Draco Malfoy would be a heck of a combo. Crossover, anyone?  
  
Amelia Rose - I don't think we have to worry about Saradoc trying to take Frodo back at this point. After all, he expected some friction with the S - B's and mentioned it in passing to Bilbo in one of the later chapters of "On the Banks of the Brandywine." And no, I don't expect anyone to remember that! I love the thing about Lobelia and the spoons too. It comes immediately to mind whenever someone says 'Sackville - Baggins'.   
  
Gayalondiel - If Lotho only knew the Master of Buckland! It would take Frodo openly saying "Take me back to Buckland" to get Saradoc to do it. How unhappy and or scared can Lotho make Frodo? We'll see.   
  
Bookworm2000 - Frodo has no idea what he's in for, it's true. Lotho is just not a good lad. Period. The cleaning of the study was inspired by the first scenes in Bag End in the extended edition of FOTR. The place was just a mess!   
  
QTPie - 2488 - Lotho is considering his options. Some things have to be planned, but some things are also just opportune.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 5 - Accidents Will Happen  
  
Two weeks had passed since the toss - ball incident, and Frodo was pleased to note that the bruise was all but gone, and his ribs didn't feel tender anymore. He had managed to stay out of any rough games in the interim, busying himself largely with the many interesting books Bag End boasted.   
  
He sat on the garden bench, reading an interesting history that had been translated from the original Elvish. He hoped he would one day have enough comprehension of the language to translate something like it himself. The accounts of great battles far away were quite interesting, and he became quickly absorbed in them, so much so that he didn't hear the voice of the person speaking to him at first.   
  
"Mr. Frodo?" Samwise Gamgee shuffled his feet and spoke again. "Mr.Frodo, beggin' your pardon, sir - "  
  
Frodo blinked and looked up from his book. "Oh! Sam, good afternoon." Frodo said, laying the book down softly on the bench. "What are you up to today?"  
  
"Not much, sir. The chores are done for the day, so I just came by to say hello," Sam said, trying to conquer his shyness. He was very curious about Frodo, and hadn't had much time to talk with him or learn much more about the newcomer from Buckland.   
  
"That's very kind of you, Sam. Won't you sit down?" Frodo moved the book aside and gestured to the space beside him on the bench.   
  
"If I'm not disturbing you." The last thing Sam wanted was to have his Gaffer berate him for being bothersome.   
  
"Not in the least," Frodo said politely. "It's always nice to have someone to talk to." Frodo found he was comfortable with Bag End and with Bilbo, but it was times like this when he found he missed Merry the most.   
  
"What are you reading?" Sam asked, glancing at the book.   
  
"An Elvish history," Frodo answered. "It's quite interesting, really."  
  
Sam looked from the book to Frodo. "Is it written in Elvish, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"No, Sam. It's been translated to common, see?" Frodo opened the book to let Sam look at it.  
  
"Oh, I see," Sam said as he looked at the pages.   
  
"I'm sure Uncle Bilbo wouldn't mind if you read it when I've finished," Frodo offered. "That is if such things interest you."  
  
"It sounds interesting, Mr. Frodo," Sam said honestly, but he looked at his toes as he continued, "Only I can't read it, sir. I ain't got my letters like you and Mr. Bilbo." He looked up again. "My Gaffer says we got our place and we ought to stay in it, seein' to what needs to be done rather than chasin' words across a page and such."   
  
Frodo was rather taken aback. Samwise couldn't read and his father didn't mind it, and in fact had not encouraged him to learn? An idea came to him. "Well perhaps, if your Gaffer doesn't mind, Bilbo and I can help you learn. Reading is something everyone can enjoy, no matter what it is they do in life."  
  
"You would teach me my letters?" Sam was dumbfounded. Surely a gentlehobbit like Mr. Frodo had better things to do with his time than to teach a gardener to read.   
  
"I'll ask Bilbo if he minds. Will it be all right with your Gaffer?" Frodo was apprehensive. He liked Hamfast Gamgee, but he hoped the steadfast practicality of the older hobbit wouldn't stand in the way of Sam's desire to learn.   
  
"I hope so, Mr. Frodo." As long as he got his chores done to satisfaction, he couldn't figure why his Gaffer would mind him learning his letters in his spare time.   
  
"Ah, Frodo. There you are!" Bilbo walked down the garden path to where Frodo and Sam were sitting together. "Having a good chat then, boys?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Bilbo, we sure are," Sam replied happily.   
  
"I hate to interrupt, but I was wondering if you would mind running to the market for me, Frodo." Bilbo had a list of items in one hand and a few coins in the other. "Just a few small things we're running short of."  
  
"I don't mind at all, Uncle," Frodo said as he traded the book for the list and the coins. "Do you want to come with me Sam?"   
  
"Can I, Mr. Frodo?" Sam's eyes lit up. It would be a nice change to walk to the market with someone besides his brothers and sisters.   
  
Frodo nodded as Bilbo offered, "I'll let your Gaffer know where you're off to so he doesn't worry, Samwise. Now off you go, lads, and stay out of mischief!" Bilbo shooed them up the path and out the gate.   
  
"Tell me more about your family, Sam," Frodo suggested. He was curious about all of Sam's brothers and sisters. What was it like having so many, he wondered? Frodo had grown up with a lot of cousins about at Brandy Hall, but it just couldn't be the same as brothers and sisters.   
  
"I got two brothers an' three sisters," Sam began, stressing the word 'three', as if that were just about as many sisters as a lad ought to be made to have. "Hamson's the oldest, then Halfred. Then there's Daisy, May and me. Marigold is my youngest sister, and she's always pesterin' me. Says I'm her favorite brother 'cause Ham and Hal are too old to be any fun."  
  
Frodo laughed. "I suppose she might feel that way sometimes."   
  
"What about you, Mr. Frodo?" Sam queried brightly.  
  
"I don't have any brothers or sisters, Sam, but I've a lot of cousins. Merry is my favorite." He paused, then explained further. "His name is really Meriadoc, but we've called him Merry since he was very small."  
  
Sam tried not to show his surprise. No brothers or sisters? It was hard for him to imagine. "Is he going to come to visit you?" Sam hoped so. If Merry were as friendly as Frodo, they would have a lot of fun together.   
  
"I hope so, Sam. I miss him very much." Frodo smiled at fond memories. "We did everything together. It was Merry who taught me to swim."  
  
Sam shuddered anew at the mention of swimming. "Like I said before, Mr. Frodo, I'm none too fond of the idea of goin' into the water." He gave Frodo a sidelong glance. "You're not pullin' my leg or anythin', are you? Folk in Buckland really do swim? On purpose?"  
  
"Yes, on purpose," Frodo answered, laughing. "I once felt as you do," Frodo told him honestly. "But Merry insisted that I learn to swim, and when he's set on something there's no turning him aside."  
  
They continued to walk and chat amiably, making their way to the market. As they walked up a hill along the way, Frodo noticed Lotho and Ted loading some barrels into a wagon a little farther up the incline. Or rather, Ted seemed to be loading them while Lotho leaned against the wagon and watched. Frodo waved cheerfully as they passed. Lotho waved back, then turned to Ted.  
  
"Well, there he goes, the little cousin old Bilbo favors so highly," Lotho said sarcastically.   
  
"That's him? Why he don't look like a proper hobbit at all!" Ted observed. "Too skinny. And why is he so pale?"  
  
"Don't know. Too much time indoors reading those silly books Bilbo prizes so highly I guess," Lotho answered, leaning against the wagon. "No matter what he is or isn't, I don't intend to let him ruin my chances of getting my inheritance."   
  
Lotho looked pointedly at Ted as he tapped his fingers on the back end of the wagon. The back had been folded down on its hinges to allow the barrels to be put inside. Once that was accomplished, it could be latched back in place to keep them there. As Lotho brooded, his fingers brushed over the latch and lingered. A slow smile spread across his face.   
  
"Just hold on a few minutes with me Ted, and I'll show you how to deal with interference from your distant relations." He grinned at the miller's son, who looked back at him curiously.   
  
~*~  
  
"Good day, cousin," Lotho said mildly as Frodo and Sam passed by with their hands full of items from the market. He was leaning against the wagon, and Ted was sitting in the seat, twirling the reins idly. "Out for a stroll, I see."  
  
"Good afternoon, Lotho," Frodo replied politely. "Sam and I were just getting some things at the market for Uncle Bilbo."  
  
"A good thing he didn't send you by yourself, with all that to carry, you know," Lotho observed. "And it's so hard to find decent help these days." His gaze traveled to Sam, who was standing beside Frodo looking rather uncomfortable.   
  
"Sam is indeed helping me, and doing a fine job of it, I might add," Frodo said, perhaps a little more defensively than he had planned. He didn't like the condescending way Lotho had looked at Sam.   
  
"And why shouldn't he, cousin?" Lotho looked at Frodo and smiled. "He and his family have been the devoted servants of the Master of Bag End for many years, after all." Lotho grinned and Frodo stiffened.   
  
"The Gaffer has been employed as Uncle Bilbo's gardener for a long time, Lotho, but I would hardly refer to him or any of his family as servants." Gardening was a great skill, if done right. Frodo respected Hamfast Gamgee and his family for all that they did to help his uncle.   
  
"Ah, yes. I forget you were raised in Buckland," Lotho said, as if that explained everything. "I forget that the ways of proper gentlehobbits are sometimes completely ignored there."   
  
Proper gentlehobbits? Was Lotho referring to the fact that Frodo and Sam's growing friendship was somehow not proper due to some foolish social class difference?   
  
"Yes, Lotho," Frodo replied calmly. "I was raised in Buckland, and in Buckland, respect is earned, not merely given, even to gentlehobbits." Frodo looked over his shoulder at Sam. "Sam and I have things to do, so I'm afraid we must be on our way."   
  
Lotho could tell he had struck a nerve. So many nerves, so little time. "As you please, Frodo," Lotho said, nodding. "But think on it, won't you? After all, this is Hobbiton, not Buckland."   
  
"Good day, Lotho," Frodo said rather shortly, and turned to walk down the hill with Sam. He stared straight ahead, a troubled look in his eyes. How could Lotho say such things, and right in front of Sam!   
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam said softly, "Thank you for what you said."   
  
"I meant it, Sam," Frodo answered. "I don't know what Uncle Bilbo would do without your Gaffer, and you for that matter. You're becoming a greater help to him all the time, you know."  
  
"And I like helpin' Mr. Bilbo," Sam said with a smile. "He's very kind to me, just like you are."  
  
"And why would I not be, Sam?" Frodo wasn't sure he liked the vision of society in Hobbiton that Lotho represented. "You mustn't listen to a snob like Lotho. People like him create imaginary lines that must not be crossed, and they keep people apart rather than bringing them together. It isn't right."  
  
"I'm glad you think so, sir. I'd like to be your friend." Sam looked down at the path and kicked a small stone away. He hoped he wasn't getting out of his place. Lotho was right to some degree, he thought. Genlehobbits normally didn't go mixing too much with their hired help in Hobbiton.   
  
"You are my friend, Sam," Frodo told him seriously. "And if I have my choice, you always will be. Lotho can talk all he wants to, but we don't have to listen to him." Frodo's assertion brought a smile to Sam's face as they made their way toward Bag End.  
  
~*~  
  
"Just a little farther, Ted. Just a moment more." Lotho stood at the back of the wagon, watching Frodo and Sam make their way down the hill. When they were near the bottom, he let his hand brush against the latch on the back of the cart. "Oops," he said casually as the bolt slipped free and the gate dropped, allowing the barrels to spill out the back and begin rolling down the hill.   
  
~*~  
  
Sam heard a 'thump' behind him, followed by a few more. He turned to look and gasped out loud as several barrels rolled down the hill directly at him and Frodo.   
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam said urgently, "Look out!"  
  
"What is it, Sam?" Frodo had been lost in thought, considering Lotho's comments. He was startled by Sam's hand gripping his sleeve. He turned and saw the barrels careening toward him.   
  
There was no time left. The barrels, though empty, were still rather heavy. They were rolling down the hill at a frightful pace, gathering speed as they came. The first of them reached its target just as Frodo shoved Sam forcefully to the side, sending him sprawling in the grass.   
  
Wham! The first barrel struck Frodo squarely, knocking him off balance as the second one hit. Frodo fell to the ground, his arms stretched out in front of him to break his fall. He landed hard on one hand, and felt the wrist strain in protest under his weight. He barely managed to roll out of the way of the third barrel as it thumped and bumped past him.  
  
Gasping and coughing in a cloud of dust, Frodo lay on the ground trying to get his bearings. Sam was by his side in an instant, attempting to help him up.   
  
"Mr. Frodo, are you all right?" Sam asked as he pulled on Frodo's arm.   
  
"I think so, but I fear I've sprained my wrist," Frodo replied, still coughing slightly.   
  
Ted and Lotho ran up to them a moment later. "Ted, I told you your da had better fix that dratted latch," Lotho berated his companion. "Now see what's happened?" He looked at Sam disdainfully and pulled Frodo back to his feet. "Are you hurt badly, Cousin?"  
  
"N - no, I don't think so," Frodo stammered, rubbing his wrist. "What happened?"  
  
"That silly old latch on the wagon gate gave way, and those barrels broke free," Lotho explained, pointing at the three barrels that had come to rest alongside the road a short distance away. He addressed Ted, who stood beside him. "Next time you go and load barrels in that wagon, you had better tie them down, Ted. You can't go around knocking the good folk of Hobbiton off their feet with them, you know."   
  
"Right you are, Lotho," Ted acknowledged, trying to keep a hurt expression from his face. How could Lotho stand there and lay the blame on him, when it had been Lotho who had thrown the latch? "Sorry, Frodo," he muttered.   
  
"Sorry about your purchases from the market," Lotho remarked as he surveyed the scattered items in the path. "You might be able to save some of them at least."  
  
Frodo looked with dismay at the scattered remnants of the things they were taking back to Bag End. The eggs were a complete loss, all broken and already attracting a few birds. A dog had wandered up slyly during the aftermath of the commotion, and was making off with a loaf of bread. Still, it could have been worse, Frodo realized. A jar of jam remained mostly undamaged, but dusty from rolling off the road and into the grass. Several other items were none the worse for wear, and everything Sam had carried had been saved when he dropped his burden on the soft grass.   
  
Sam had managed to retrieve most of the fallen items and stood waiting nearby as Frodo dusted himself off. Frodo nodded acknowledgement of Ted's apology. "No real harm was done," he told the older tween. To Lotho, he said, "We should be able to save most of this, I believe."  
  
"I hope Bilbo won't be too angry with you," Lotho said evenly. "After all, it was just an accident." Yes, indeed. Just an accident like any other, Lotho thought smugly.  
  
"Accidents will happen," Frodo answered. "I don't think he'll be angry at all." If anything, Bilbo was likely to be worried and dismayed by the fact that Frodo had incurred some minor damage as a result of the event. His wrist throbbed painfully.   
  
"We had best be getting home. Thank you for stopping to check on us." Frodo said, gathering what he could carry of the remaining items from the market.   
  
"My pleasure, Cousin." Lotho was smiling again. "Safe journey, Frodo." He motioned for Ted to follow him back up the hill, and the two tweens walked away.   
  
Sam looked at Frodo with a mixture of worry and doubt in his features. " Meanin' no offense, Mr. Frodo, but I don't much like that Mr. Lotho," Sam said honestly. "I know he's family of yours, but - "  
  
"Be at ease, Sam," Frodo assured him. "Just because he's family doesn't mean that I like him especially either." Frodo's brow furrowed as he spoke. "He always seems to be polite on the surface, but it seems as if he feels differently underneath." Frodo was unsure of his elder cousin, wishing to believe the best of him, but fearing the worst. "I don't think he likes me very much."  
  
"Why wouldn't he, Mr. Frodo?" Sam wondered why Lotho, or anyone else would have anything against someone as friendly as Frodo. It didn't make a lot of sense to him.  
  
"I don't know, Sam. He and his family don't seem to like Uncle Bilbo a great deal either." He didn't go into the story of how the Sackville - Bagginses coveted Bag End. For all he knew, that was perhaps just Bilbo's opinion, and there was some other unnamed reason as to why the Sackville - Bagginses were so cold toward his guardian.   
  
Sam and Frodo continued on their way, speaking in subdued voices. They spoke of other things as they walked, not wanting to raise the subject of Frodo's unpleasant relatives again.   
  
~*~  
  
Ted grunted as he lifted the last of the three barrels back into the wagon and latched it securely. There was nothing wrong with the latch, either. He fumed at Lotho's use of it as an excuse for the 'accident'. All this was Lotho's doing, not his. Still, he remembered that he had agreed to help Lotho get rid of this cousin of his. Was this to be his role? Taking the blame? Ted wasn't sure he wanted any part of the venture if that were the case.   
  
"Ain't nothin' wrong with the latch, and you know it," he said, giving Lotho a look. "You let them barrels go yourself."  
  
"Of course I did," Lotho said mildly. "But I couldn't just walk up to Frodo and say so, could I? Not if I want him to get anywhere near me again." And Lotho would need Frodo to get near him if there were to be any more little accidents. "Trust me, Ted. No harm will come to you by any of this. I just need you to play along, all right?"  
  
"All right," Ted grumbled in irritation. "But it'll cost you some ale."   
  
"It's a deal," Lotho said, shaking Ted's hand and guiding him back to the seat of the cart. "Let's go dump these barrels and I'll pay up per our agreement." They climbed up into the cart and headed for the Sandymans' shed to stow the empty barrels.   
  
~*~  
  
Sam and Frodo walked into Bag End and laid the market items on the table. Bilbo looked at Frodo curiously. What had happened to the lad now, he wondered? Frodo was covered in dust and had a few scrapes showing on his legs and arms. He was rubbing one wrist, which was already beginning to swell.   
  
"Frodo, what's the meaning of this?" Bilbo asked suspiciously.   
  
"I'm sorry, Uncle. There was a bit of an accident. I'm afraid the eggs were lost, and the bread also." Frodo looked contrite as he gestured to what was left of their purchases.   
  
"I'm not talking about the food, lad." Bilbo pointed at the scrapes on Frodo's leg. "I'm talking about the state you're in. How did you get those scratches, and where did all that dust come from?"  
  
"We were walkin' home when some barrels rolled down the hill at us," Sam said, coming to Frodo's defense. "Mr. Frodo shoved me out of the way and they hit him instead." Sam said breathlessly.   
  
"Barrels? What barrels?" Bilbo said in confusion. Barrels didn't just go rolling down hills of their own accord. "Frodo, what's going on?"  
  
"Lotho and Ted Sandyman were at the top of the hill with a wagon," Frodo explained. "The latch broke and the barrels came free."  
  
"Lotho again?" Bilbo's eyes narrowed slightly. "That boy brings entirely too much bad luck with him these days, Frodo. I think you should steer clear of him whenever possible."  
  
"He also said a few things I didn't like." Frodo recalled the conversation. "He called Sam and his family your servants, and said it wasn't proper of a gentlehobbit to be going about with them."  
  
Bilbo glowered as he replied. "That is typical Sackville - Baggins snobbery, lad. You shall go about with whomever you please, as long as they are decent folk." He smiled at Sam, who sat quietly nearby. "I'd say you'd have to go a good distance to find any more decent than young Samwise and his kin. Pay your cousin no mind, Frodo. It's plain he's lacking one of his own."  
  
The gibe made Frodo snicker and Sam smiled. Bilbo examined Frodo's sore wrist carefully. He moved it slowly, watching Frodo's expression. A wince and abrupt intake of breath told him all he needed to know.   
  
"That's a nasty sprain, lad. You'd better sit down and let me pack it in ice for a while." Frodo nodded and took another seat at the table. "By the way, you got a letter from Merry." Bilbo handed the note to the tween as he left for the cellar to get some ice.   
  
"Merry says he'd like to meet you, Sam," Frodo said as his eyes scanned the page. "He also agrees with Uncle Bilbo that I should watch Lotho. He says I shouldn't trust him any father than I could toss him."   
  
"And I won't say otherwise neither," Sam agreed. "I don't care what Mr. Lotho says about me and mine, but if he's doing anything hurtful toward you, Mr. Frodo, you ought to stay clear of him." Sam colored as he realized what his Gaffer would say to hear him speaking in such a manner to Frodo.   
  
Frodo didn't seem to mind Sam's forwardness. "Your advice is appreciated, Sam." Frodo smiled at him across the table. "And I do care what he says about you and yours, even though he's wrong. Perhaps he'll understand that one day." One could always hope.  
  
"Thank you for protecting me today, Mr. Frodo," Sam said earnestly. "I'll repay the favor, on my word. Nobody's going to do you a bad turn if I have anythin' to do about it."   
  
"I'm sure that's so, Sam." Frodo smiled at his friend. "Nobody would dare, with Samwise Gamgee keeping vigil."   
  
Bilbo wrapped Frodo's wrist and laid ice packs around it on the table as Sam excused himself to join his family for tea. Frodo waved as Sam stepped out the door.   
  
"Samwise has taken quite a liking to you, hasn't he, lad?" Bilbo observed fondly. He approved whole - heartedly, as Sam was a good youngster. "You two are becoming good friends, are you not?"  
  
"I believe we are, Uncle," Frodo answered, his expression brightening as he remembered something. "In fact, Sam was quite interested in the book I was reading earlier. Did you know he can't read?"   
  
Bilbo considered. "I rather doubted that he'd been taught his letters, although I haven't asked, and the lad has never broached the subject himself. Would he like to learn?"  
  
"Oh, yes, Uncle. He would like that very much!" Frodo was pleased to see that Bilbo wasn't against the idea. "I could teach him, but he would benefit from your knowledge also," he suggested as Bilbo listened.   
  
"If Hamfast doesn't mind his son's spending some of his time in such pursuits, I wouldn't mind helping the lad at all," Bilbo replied. "It might do some good for young Samwise to have his letters. There are many good books on the subject of gardening that he might one day choose to read, and who knows? When he's old and wise, he may decide to write one of his own." Bilbo winked at Frodo, referring to his own book, which he worked on in the evenings.   
  
Frodo laughed. "So you'll do it then? You'll help me teach Sam to read and write?" Frodo was thrilled with the idea, not just for Sam's sake, but for his own. It would give him something more to do besides learning to behave like a 'gentlehobbit'.   
  
"I will indeed, Frodo lad. Now let's have some tea and see to your own lessons, shall we?" Bilbo put the kettle on and he and Frodo remained at the table, the elder hobbit drilling the younger in his studies.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	6. Yule Cheer

Endymion - Ted just hasn't figured out that his beer buddy Lotho doesn't hold him in high regard, has he? I don't think Sam will let Frodo get away with pushing him out of the way again. He'll be doing the pushing from now on. Frodo doesn't think much of Lotho's snooty attitude, that's for sure!  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Great to see you back again! The first chapter was sweet, but it's not all sweetness in store for our hero, I'm afraid.   
  
Shirebound - Lotho is completely insulting, isn't he? As if Frodo's being raised in Buckland were actually a bad thing!  
  
Aratlithiel - Frodo and Sam's friendship is off to a good start. I almost feel sorry for Ted too. Here he is, thinking Lotho is his friend!   
  
Aelfgifu - That last 'accident' was the product of a good opportunity. Lotho will make his own opportunities in this chapter. We will see Merry visit Bag End later. Frodo should definitely not play contact sports with Lotho again. The S - B's will continue their beastly behavior as the tale unfolds!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - So far, this story is set up with 21 chapters. On the subject of ice, ~wink~ I'm taking a little bit of license assuming that Bag End might be just about the only place in the Shire that might have a deep enough cellar to be able to have a makeshift icebox of some kind. Those dwarves that Bilbo knows are awfully clever! Even so, it would be kind of like icehouses in the 1800s. I wouldn't expect the ice to last long, and it would be a luxury, to be sure. If Frodo were anywhere besides Bag End, he would probably have had to make do with cold well water to soak his wrist in.  
  
FantasyFan - I'm updating at least every couple of days. I don't want to leave too long a gap between chapters if I can help it. Bilbo is always suspicious of Lotho, but so far he can't prove anything unusual is going on. You're right that Frodo is just so kind - hearted he can't imagine that his own cousin would try to harm him. Will Lotho try to drive a wedge between Bilbo and Frodo? You never know, he just might! He's certainly trying to make it look like Bilbo can't take proper care of the boy.   
  
Amelia Rose - The 'accidents' are certainly escalating in their seriousness. I love Sam too. I think he's just the very best example of a true friend. Lotho was wrong to say those nasty, snobby things to him.   
  
GamgeeFest - Lotho deserves a good throttling. That would make a good 'lost scene' as far as the market goes. You can bet there are a lot of whispers going around Hobbiton already as people start to wonder who that young hobbit is. Yule is a great time to introduce a young lad to society, though!   
  
Gayalondiel - Frodo does have a good support group, far better than Lotho knows. Will Ted be Lotho's undoing? I can only answer by saying that by the time this fic is over, Lotho will owe Ted a favor! I know that sounds cryptic now, but you'll see what I mean.   
  
Pebbles - I agree that Sam and Frodo must have shared some growing - up experiences. In the book, their ages were fairly different, but I think that Frodo might have made an effort not to treat Sam like a baby, and Sam would have gained enormous respect for Frodo. Bilbo is always suspicious of anything having to do with his least favorite relations. If it's bad, the S - Bs must have had something to do with it! Frodo's nature is to give everyone he meets a fair chance, so he's not as likely to suspect Lotho as Bilbo does.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 6 - Yule Cheer  
  
"Now there's a young gentlehobbit if I've ever seen one!" Bilbo enthused, pausing to look as Frodo stood before the mirror smoothing his weskit. A trip to the tailor had produced a new pair of velvet breeches and a well - made linen shirt, over which Frodo wore a green velvet weskit with leaves embroidered upon it in gold thread. The clothing had a festive look about it, and fit the tween perfectly.   
  
"It's all very nice, Uncle," Frodo said appreciatively. "Thank you so much!" He turned and gave his guardian a big hug.   
  
"Only what was needed and deserved, dear boy," Bilbo replied, returning the embrace. "The Yule party at the Green Dragon is quite the social event, and we couldn't have you arriving in less than the most proper attire, now could we?"   
  
"Is it a big party then, with many people there?" Frodo was a little apprehensive. This would be his first real outing of a social nature since his arrival, and the thought of meeting so many others for the first time gave him pause.   
  
"Last year there were upwards of two hundred hobbits in attendance," Bilbo answered, fondly recalling the occasion the previous year. "There was music and dancing, and a feast of great proportions."   
  
The bell rang, and Bilbo excused himself to answer it. Frodo gave his reflection another quick glance, and decided he was as ready as he would ever be. He made his way toward the parlor, where he could hear the voices of Bilbo and Hamfast Gamgee.   
  
The Gaffer stood in the parlor with his two eldest sons, Hamson and Halfred. Sam was a little young yet to attend, so he was spending the evening at home with his younger sisters, May and Marigold. Bell Gamgee had already gone ahead of them with Daisy, since Bell had volunteered to help with the preparation of the food for the party.   
  
"Well there's the lad now," Hamfast observed as Frodo entered the room. "How are you this evening, Mr. Frodo?"  
  
"Very well, thank you, Master Gamgee." Frodo greeted Hamson and Halfred, shaking the hand of each with a smile. He and Bilbo donned their cloaks and the group left Bag End together, chatting cheerfully as they walked.   
  
"How do you like Hobbiton so far, Mr. Frodo?" Halfred asked curiously.  
  
"It's quite a pleasant place," Frodo answered, meaning every word. "I fear I haven't arrived at the right time of year to see it at its best, however." Winter's bleak grayness had fallen over the Shire, and there was not yet any snow to hide the brown, dormant grass. Springtime would surely be the time when Hobbiton was at its best aesthetically.   
  
"'Tis true, our home is a fairer sight with the gardens in bloom," the Gaffer acknowledged. "But snow makes a pretty sight here as well, and we may see a storm 'fore long."   
  
"Does it snow much here?" Frodo was curious. He rather liked the snow and had fond memories of snowball throwing with Merry when he was a younger lad.   
  
"Not enough to keep a hobbit in his hole," Hamson put in, "but enough to make a nice view and some fun for the youngsters."  
  
When they reached the inn, the sounds of music and laughter were already floating out into the night and the windows were brightly lit by candles and lanterns. Frodo was reminded of the parties and festivals at Brandy Hall, when he and Merry had hidden themselves and watched the revelers from a distance. Hobbits in bright colors danced and sang, raised tankards of ale in salute to one another, and partook of the feast laid out for them. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.   
  
Frodo felt himself flush uncomfortably as one pair of eyes after another seemed to come to rest upon him. The revelers weren't really staring at him, per se. That would be quite rude. Instead, they seemed to be glancing at him for a few moments and then looking away, only to allow their gazes to return to him again a moment later. Frodo understood their curiosity, but his grasp of it didn't make it easier for him to bear their scrutiny. He smiled faintly and stepped closer to Bilbo.   
  
"Frodo, lad, fetch us both a tankard, eh?" Bilbo nudged Frodo toward the bar where several kegs were set up, and hobbits were serving themselves happily. Frodo nodded and willed himself to relax. As he filled two tankards, he glanced around the room. There, chatting with some other hobbits by the hearth, were the Sackville - Bagginses. Lobelia wore a rather impatient expression, and Lotho looked bored and disdainful. Otho just looked like there was somewhere else he'd rather be.   
  
Lotho caught sight of Frodo and nodded to him, lifting his tankard. Frodo smiled and nodded back, repeating the salute. Frodo wondered again how long ago Bilbo's feud with them had begun, and whether it was due entirely to their desire to obtain Bag End. It saddened him that Bilbo's relations were so willing to sacrifice a good relationship with him. Bilbo was kind and amusing, if a little eccentric, and Frodo was proud of him and loved him for who he was. Why couldn't the Sackville - Bagginses see the same good things in the elderly hobbit and treasure them as he did?  
  
Frodo filled two tankards and returned to find Bilbo chatting with some hobbits Frodo hadn't met yet.   
  
"Frodo, I would like you to meet the Hornblowers," Bilbo began, as Frodo nodded politely and shook hands.   
  
"How do you do," Frodo said, pleased that his voice sounded strong and even, rather than betraying his nervousness. He had supposed that he would be introduced to a great many others during the course of the evening, and his dread of the experience was beginning to fade as he sensed the friendliness of the people around him.   
  
"You are recently come to Hobbiton, then?" Hanson Hornblower asked politely.   
  
"Yes, sir," Frodo answered. "I've come from Buckland and will be staying at Bag End."  
  
"I think you'll find Hobbiton a pleasant environment," Hanson's wife, Violet said with a smile. "Folk here are quite friendly, even if we are curious." She nodded to Frodo. "It isn't often there's a new face among us. I hope you haven't been made too uncomfortable by all of us peering at you."   
  
Frodo did his best to force down the blush he felt rising to his cheeks. "Hobbiton is quite nice, ma'am," he answered simply.   
  
Bilbo chimed in. "I may be biased, but I don't believe there is a better environment in all the world for a young hobbit." He thumped Frodo on the back. "There's plenty of space, fresh air, and lively company about."  
  
"All things that are necessary for the proper raising of the young," Hanson agreed, sipping his ale. "But I do hope Hobbiton doesn't seem rather dull after Buckland."  
  
After recent events in Buckland and elsewhere, Frodo reflected that a bit of dullness might be welcome. Besides, he didn't consider himself a particularly interesting individual anyhow. "Not to worry, sir," he said, smiling. "I fear I'm rather dull myself, really."  
  
Bilbo laughed. "Frodo is not a dull lad at all," he said, glancing at the youth by his side. "He has a liking for books and such, but he's also got a quick sense of humor and an aptitude for dancing." He winked at Frodo. "I had best make haste to introduce him, for we'll lose him to the dance floor soon."  
  
Frodo noticed that he had been unconsciously tapping his foot to the rhythm of the music, and blushed again. He couldn't help it. He had always liked music, and had shown his talent for dancing at an early age. He had learned all the most popular jigs and reels when he was quite young, and had only grown more adept as time passed. He was able to keep up with the elder hobbits at Brandy Hall no matter the complexity or tempo of the steps.  
  
"We'll not keep you, Bilbo, for you've many introductions to make, I'm certain," Master Hornblower said with a polite bow. "A pleasure to meet you Frodo."  
  
"Likewise, sir," Frodo answered, allowing Bilbo to lead him away into the crowd. More introductions followed, always with polite questions regarding his family in Buckland and the expected duration of his stay in Hobbiton. The answers came more easily to Frodo with repetition, and he began to feel more at ease.   
  
After a while, Bilbo asked Frodo to refill their ales, and stood beaming at the tween when he returned with the newly filled tankards. "There's Daisy Chubb over there, and she looks like she could use a dance partner," Bilbo suggested, raising his eyebrows.   
  
"Oh, Uncle, I don't know - " Frodo's protest fell on deaf ears.   
  
"This is no time to be shy, my boy!" He gave Frodo a playful shove. "Go and ask her to dance, like a good lad."   
  
Frodo did as he was bidden, having been propelled in the lass' direction by Bilbo's shove. In a few moments, Frodo was whirling Daisy about the dance floor, his steps deft and quick as he guided her in the lively reel. Bilbo watched proudly from the sidelines.  
  
"Bilbo, how have you been keeping, dear fellow?" Bilbo turned to find old Odo Proudfoot by his side.   
  
"Odo, old friend, I've been better than I've a right, especially if you inquire of certain others hereabouts." That elicited a laugh from both hobbits, and Odo slapped Bilbo on the back appreciatively. "Come on over and chat with the Boffins, will you? They've asked after you, you know."  
  
"Indeed, I have been rather scarce of late," Bilbo admitted. "I've been working hard in my study, and doing a bit of traveling to visit family in recent months." He obediently followed Odo across the room to where the Boffin family stood.   
  
Lotho watched as Frodo danced and Bilbo turned away to converse with the Boffins. He excused himself from his family and their conversation, edging closer to the table where Frodo's ale stood unattended.   
  
Looking left and right to be sure he wasn't observed, Lotho carefully drew a small pouch of something from his pocket. "Let's see how well you dance with a head muddled by sleeping powder," he muttered under his breath. Lotho had managed to remove the drug from the cupboard at home without his parents being the wiser. Whenever Lobelia was in a state and had trouble sleeping, which was something of a frequent occurrence, she would put a bit of it into her tea and retire. A herd of oliphaunts couldn't wake her until she was good and ready to come to.  
  
Lotho put a good pinch of the white powder into Frodo's ale and watched as it dissolved into invisibility. He was about to return the pouch to his pocket, but hesitated. How strong was the powder? How much did his mother use to achieve a drowsy state? Uncertain that he had put enough in to do the job, Lotho added a second pinch. Smiling to himself, he refilled his own ale and rejoined his mother and father.   
  
The dance ended to the cheers of the participants, and Frodo tried to catch his breath before the next dance began. "Daisy, would you pardon me for a moment?" Frodo asked, breathing rapidly and wiping his brow. "I need a moment to revive myself. Can I get you something?" Daisy smiled and declined, saying she wasn't thirsty. She was quite pleased to have found such a good dance partner among the many tweens at the party, and asked Frodo to return quickly.  
  
Frodo moved over to the table where his ale awaited him, and took a deep draught from the tankard. In moments he was back on the dance floor, swinging Daisy through the crowd once again.   
  
Lotho sipped his ale and watched, wondering how long it would take. Frodo was of a slim build, so it stood to reason the reaction might set in a bit faster than with a sturdier individual. This would certainly be amusing, he thought.   
  
As the tune was coming to an end, Frodo stumbled slightly, narrowly missing stepping on his partner's foot. He frowned at himself and apologized to Daisy. He wasn't usually so clumsy. Perhaps he was just a little tired, he reasoned as he thanked Daisy for the dances and excused himself.   
  
He searched the crowded room for Bilbo and finally spotted him over in the corner with a group of hobbits, deep in conversation. He didn't want to interrupt them, so he looked about again, hoping to find someone he knew among the milling hobbits.   
  
Seeing the Gamgees nearby, he made his way in their direction, his steps increasingly unsteady. And his vision - Frodo rubbed at his eyes trying to clear them - his vision was becoming rather blurry about the edges. Impossible, he thought hazily. He had only had one half pint and maybe half of a second, and over a two hour period. He shouldn't be anywhere near as unsteady as he was starting to feel. Perhaps he was coming down with something.   
  
By the time he reached the Gamgees, Frodo was clearly in some distress. The Gaffer looked at him with an odd expression, and Frodo tried to smile and pretend nothing was wrong. As he stepped closer, he faltered and nearly fell as Halfred reached out to steady him.   
  
"Mr. Frodo, you don't look well. Do you need to sit down?" He asked solicitously.   
  
"I - I'm not sure, Halfred," Frodo said slowly. Everything around him seemed to be moving in slow motion now, and he felt strangely detached from his surroundings. "I feel so very odd - " Frodo said nothing more, but slowly collapsed as Halfred caught him.   
  
"What in the Shire?" The Gaffer said as Frodo went limp in Halfred's grip. They carried the tween carefully to a chair and Hamson went in search of Bilbo as Halfred and his father stood fanning Frodo's face and slapping his hand gently, trying to bring him around.   
  
"What a shame," a voice said behind them. They turned to see Lotho Sackville - Baggins standing a short distance away, shaking his head and smiling faintly. "It seems our young gentlehobbit has a hard time holding his ale."   
  
The Gaffer gave Lotho a sour look. He didn't much like uppity lads like Lotho, and he wasn't ashamed to say so. "Whatever the cause of Mr. Frodo's troubles, they ain't anyone else's to comment over," he said sharply.   
  
"Merely expressing my concern, Master Gamgee," Lotho said lightly, still smiling. "Perhaps all the excitement was a little much for my young cousin here," he offered. "Being in a room full of strangers is bound to be rather of a strain, and who knows what habits he learned in Buckland? Might it be possible that he has overindulged?"  
  
"Whether he has or hasn't is none of your concern, Lotho," Bilbo said as he strode up to join them. "You must have something better to do than standing around making unsolicited comments and assumptions about your cousin." Bilbo glowered openly at the tween.  
  
"I can see my presence here is thought to be unnecessary," Lotho said, a hint of sarcasm coming into his voice. "My advice, if you want it, is to get Frodo home before everyone notices. You wouldn't want all of Hobbiton to talk, would you?"   
  
Bilbo wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off Lotho's face then and there. "Of course we'll get him home, and with no further cheekiness from you! He is not your concern, Lotho, and I'll thank you to keep your suppositions to yourself."  
  
Lotho's smile had become a grin by now, as he enjoyed the scene playing out before him. "You needn't thank me, Uncle. Not at all." He turned and walked away, leaving Bilbo and the Gamgees to wonder as to the meaning of his statement.   
  
Bilbo laid a hand across Frodo's forehead and spoke softly. "Frodo, lad, can you hear me?" Frodo did not respond, but was sound asleep in the chair. After much poking and prodding, Frodo's eyes fluttered open, but they were bleary and unfocused.   
  
"Uncle Bilbo?" he asked weakly. "What's going on?"  
  
"I was hoping you could tell me, Frodo," Bilbo answered quietly. "How are you feeling now? Can you stand?"  
  
"I don't know," Frodo said lazily. "I'll try." With Hamson on one side of him and Halfred on the other, Frodo managed to regain his feet. He stood leaning on Hamson and Halfred heavily, barely able to remain upright.   
  
"Let's get you home to bed, lad. We'll talk about it in the morning," Bilbo said gently as he went to retrieve their cloaks. He was deeply troubled by this turn of events. He had never heard anything about Frodo having a tendency to imbibe to excess at gatherings. In fact, to his knowledge, Frodo was quite new to the art of drinking ale, and had only recently had his first half - pint, and that under Bilbo's watchful eye. Now, there the lad was, nearly unconscious, and Lotho insinuating that it was Frodo's own lack of self - control that was to blame.   
  
He returned to the group and draped Frodo's cloak about him as the Gamgee brothers supported the semi - conscious tween. They made their way carefully through the crowded room, eliciting stares and whispers from the other hobbits in attendance. Bilbo nodded and smiled, and to those bold enough to ask, he offered the excuse that Frodo was likely coming down with something and wasn't feeling well.   
  
The fresh night air seemed to help, and Frodo was more alert as they made their way to Bag End. He felt heavy and numb, as if something were dragging him downward. Through the haze that clouded his mind came reproachful thoughts, as he realized how the situation must have looked to bystanders. He had somehow managed to embarrass Bilbo and himself as well. But he hadn't had that much ale, he reasoned. Was he really to blame, or was he merely ill and unfortunate enough to succumb to it in public?   
  
When they arrived at Bag End, Frodo was taken immediately to his room, and laid gently on the bed. His eyes were closed, and oblivion was beckoning enticingly. In moments, Frodo was sound asleep again, before Bilbo could help him dress for bed.  
  
Shaking his head, Bilbo left Frodo to sleep as he was, merely laying a coverlet over him with care. "My dear boy, what shall we do?" he said under his breath. He thanked the Gamgees for their help and kindness, and made himself a cup of tea in the kitchen.   
  
For the next three hours he sat brooding, trying to puzzle out just what had happened at the party. And Lotho continued to intrude upon his thoughts. That irritating young snip had seemed almost amused by Frodo's condition! Little did Bilbo doubt the Sackville - Bagginses would make much of the incident, and word would be all over Hobbiton about Frodo's supposed ale intake.   
  
~*~  
  
Lotho slipped the pouch of sleeping powder back into the cabinet he had liberated it from earlier, still smiling at the mental image of Frodo staggering about at the party. It had come off even better than he'd hoped, for he hadn't counted on Frodo losing consciousness entirely. He must have used more of the powder than was needed. No matter, as the drug wasn't really all that potent. The rat would probably sleep all day, and never know what had hit him.   
  
How satisfied Lotho had been with the result of his efforts! It now seemed to the casual observer that Frodo Baggins could not conduct himself as a gentlehobbit should when there was ale about. He couldn't imagine his cousin wanting to stay in a place where people whispered about him and shunned him for what they perceived to be his improper behavior.   
  
Tonight he would dream about living in Bag End, owning the fine dwelling and all that it boasted. It would indeed belong to him someday, he surmised. His inheritance would be secure. Or would it? Old Bilbo had been none too pleased with what Lotho had said to him at the party. Let Bilbo be irritated with him, he thought. Bilbo disliked his parents too, it was plain, so why bother trying to gain his complete favor? As long as the old hobbit recognized who his closest relations were when the time came, that was all that mattered. Traditionally, Bilbo would be bound to leave them his wealth.   
  
He closed his eyes and let the visions of a splendid life at Bag End fill his mind, and soon he slept, dreaming of all the ways he might finish the job of getting Frodo out of Hobbiton. So much to do!  
  
~*~Late the next morning~*~  
  
Frodo woke slowly, as the sleeping powder wore off little by little, leaving a mild confusion in its wake. He sat up and looked around, finding himself in his room, still dressed in his finery from the night before. He changed into his everyday attire and hung his new clothing carefully in the armoire. After splashing his face with some cool water from the basin, he wandered out into the kitchen.   
  
"Feeling better, Frodo, lad?" Bilbo asked. Frodo had been expecting to hear anger or at the very least, disappointment in Bilbo's tone, but there was only concern.   
  
"Yes, Uncle. Much better," Frodo asked, looking at his teacup morosely. He struggled to recall anything about the previous night that might have led to his condition, but failed to find any reason for his embarrassing state. "I'm sorry."  
  
"For what, my boy?" Bilbo seated himself across from Frodo and patted his hand gently.  
  
"I - I don't know," Frodo responded, realizing he couldn't easily explain. "For embarrassing you, mostly."  
  
Bilbo smiled kindly. "You haven't embarrassed me, Frodo. One must consent to being embarrassed, and I have refused to be. Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
"I'm still trying to understand it myself," Frodo said as he sipped his tea. "I had an ale with you, as you and I chatted for the first hour. I filled our tankards again, and you sent me to dance with Daisy. I danced with her until I was thirsty, so I had a bit more of that second ale, and went back to dancing." Frodo's brow furrowed in concentration as he remembered. "By the end of the dance, I was feeling a little dizzy, so I thought I would sit down. I started looking for you, but found the Gamgees first. I suddenly felt very dizzy and very tired, and I can't remember anything else until we were outside and on our way home."   
  
Bilbo nodded. The information coincided with what the Gamgees had told him. "You can only remember having one and a half tankards, then?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle. I'm sure of it." Frodo looked up and locked eyes with Bilbo. "I swear to you, Uncle. I wasn't drunk. I know I haven't much experience at drinking ale, but one and a half shouldn't have put me in such a state."   
  
"I'll agree, lad. It should take more than that to produce such a strong reaction." Bilbo looked at Frodo sharply. "Lotho seemed rather amused, you know."  
  
"Did he?" Frodo shook his head. "I can't remember anything but seeing him there with his family."   
  
"He was there, all right. I can't help but wonder if he somehow had something to do with it," Bilbo grumbled. "Did you see him anywhere near your drink, Frodo?"  
  
"No, I didn't," Frodo replied. Did Bilbo really think Lotho had done something to him? "We have no proof that he was in any way involved, Uncle."   
  
"I suppose you're right, lad, but I mistrust him just the same." Bilbo looked gravely at Frodo. "He was a little too pleased to see that his young cousin was unconscious at a party."   
  
"Perhaps his sense of humor is just a little different from ours, Uncle," Frodo offered. He was doing his best to be charitable. It hurt somehow to think that his own relative would be amused by his distress.   
  
"More than a little," Bilbo said with a derisive snort. "Don't you fret over it, lad. Some folk may whisper about it for a time, but like all things, it will pass. Besides, I can recall seeing many of Hobbiton's finest folk reeling about unbalanced on one occasion or another. I don't know what happened, but I find no fault with you, my boy."  
  
Frodo's expression brightened some at that assurance. He'd been certain Bilbo would be greatly displeased with him. "I'm glad, Uncle. I don't want to embarrass or disappoint you in any way. I was sure that I had."  
  
"Don't trouble your mind with what may be going through mine," Bilbo said as he patted Frodo's hand again. "If you're still feeling tired, you go on back to bed and rest. If you're coming down with something, I'd rather you stay in bed and get better."  
  
Frodo nodded. He finished his tea, and did as Bilbo had suggested, returning to bed to rest for the remainder of the day.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	7. On Thin Ice

FrodoBaggins1982 - Frodo didn't get much of a chance to enjoy the Yule party, did he? Lotho needs to watch his step around Bilbo, because Bilbo didn't trust him in the first place.   
  
QTPie - 2488 - Lotho is a piece of work, isn't he? I'm not sure if I have ever seen mention of Frodo liking to dance either, but I just thought about that scene in the movie at Bilbo's party. He seemed to be having a good time then.  
  
GamgeeFest - Lotho is getting a little sloppy because he can't help gloating. Bilbo doesn't trust him in the first place. He's going to have to try to make himself look innocent while he pulls his nasty tricks. Frodo should listen to his instincts, never mind being friendly. But we don't always do what we should, do we? Frodo's friendly nature will bring him some real trouble in this chapter.   
  
Aratlithiel - Bilbo and Frodo's relationship is largely based in trusting each other and being honest. Bilbo treats Frodo as an intelligent individual, and Frodo respects Bilbo immensely for it. Lotho is a poop.   
  
LotRseer3350 - Lotho was fairly subtle in his actions, if not in his words. He'd better mind himself when Bilbo is around!   
  
Tavion - Lotho is being pretty crafty with his tricks. Frodo is far too trusting, too hopeful that he might be able to make friends with his haughty cousin somehow. You are right that this kind of bully is a new thing to Frodo. He's used to overt actions against him rather than the sneaky stuff Lotho is pulling.   
  
Endymion - That was pretty rude of Lotho to wreck everyone's evening, wasn't it? Lotho just doesn't understand Frodo at all if he thinks Frodo will leave Hobbiton out of embarrassment. Bilbo is a great one for encouraging Frodo and allying his fears, so Lotho is on the wrong track if he thinks Frodo will give up easily. Winter will be the perfect time for accidents? Oh, yes, I think it will!  
  
CuriousCat - Thanks for joining us! Frodo just seems to have non - stop trouble, doesn't he? I loved your comment about Lotho being the 'evil Eddie Haskell of Middle Earth'. Frodo is fortunate that people of good character and kind heart always seem drawn to him to balance out the troublemakers.   
  
Chapter 7 - On Thin Ice   
  
~*~After Yule~*~  
  
Snow! Frodo was struck by the beauty of the scene before him as he peered out his window into the morning light. A thick blanket of fluffy snow had fallen overnight, and covered everything with a clean, white mantle. It sparkled as the first thin rays of winter sun glanced off the topmost layer of delicate flakes. Frodo was awake early and he wondered if Bilbo had seen it yet. He dressed hurriedly and wandered down the hall. Bilbo was awake already and was busily stoking the fire in the hearth.   
  
"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo called as he burst into the room, "Have you seen the snow?"  
  
"Yes, Frodo," Bilbo replied, laughing lightly. "A lovely sight to be sure. It almost makes the cold of winter worthwhile, having such a thing to look upon." Once the fire was crackling merrily on the hearth, he summoned Frodo into the kitchen for breakfast.   
  
"I imagine you'll want to go outside and have a good look, so let us not waste time," the older hobbit said as he bustled about. Frodo helped with the breakfast preparations, setting out a jar of raspberry jam and preparing toast.   
  
Just as they were finishing breakfast, the doorbell rang. Frodo opened it to see Samwise Gamgee standing before him, red - cheeked and dressed warmly, with a shovel in his hands. It seemed he had already made good use of it, having cleared the path down to the gate.   
  
"Good morning, Mr. Frodo!" Sam said brightly. "Would you care to come out and see the snow?"   
  
Frodo laughed. "Well I suppose so, Sam, but please come in for a moment. We're just finishing breakfast and we've tea and toast if you'd like some," Frodo offered, waving Sam toward the kitchen.   
  
"Sit down, Samwise, and remove that great bulky coat of yours," Bilbo ordered, and Sam complied. "You can't go about outside in the cold without a proper meal to warm you, lad," Bilbo continued, supplying the newcomer with tea and toast.   
  
"Oh, I've had breakfast already, Mr. Bilbo," Sam informed him, "But some tea would be nice, it would." Sam thanked Bilbo for the tea and sipped it happily.   
  
"With the snow, there's likely not much work to be done besides shoveling," Frodo surmised, thinking that Sam might have much of the day to himself as a result of the weather.   
  
"That's so, Mr. Frodo," Sam confirmed. "In fact, Halfred, Hamson and I were going to go slidin' down the hill for a bit, if you'd like to join us."  
  
"Sliding down the hill? On what, your backsides?" Frodo laughed at the notion. In Buckland a snowfall usually meant some good snowball fighting and fort building, but there really weren't any hills to slide down, at least not any that rivaled those of Hobbiton.   
  
"Yes, on our backsides, but we use shovels." At Frodo's quizzical expression, Sam elaborated. "We sit on them and slide down the hill. You can go far and fast on a shovel, Mr. Frodo."   
  
Frodo crossed his arms in mock disapproval and raised his eyebrows. "Now isn't that a grievous misuse of a gardening implement, Samwise?" Bilbo started chuckling at this. Evidence of the Baggins sense of humor was plain in young Frodo, he reminded himself.   
  
Sam colored slightly at Frodo's comment, but went on. "All the lads do it, Mr. Frodo. Even the tweens. It's fun!"   
  
"Well then, I suppose I ought to try it, shouldn't I?" Frodo replied, looking at Bilbo for affirmation.   
  
"If you like, Frodo," Bilbo said, and a grin crossed his face. "I would go with you, but an elderly gentlehobbit should keep to more dignified pursuits, and at my age, snow between the toes is rather bothersome."   
  
"All right then, Sam. I'll go with you," Frodo said, and rose from his chair to help with the breakfast dishes. "You just finish your tea, Sam, and I'll be ready in a few moments."  
  
In a short while, the breakfast dishes were cleared away and Frodo was adding a couple of warm layers to his clothing and donning his coat. "You'll show me how it's done then, won't you Sam?" he asked, wrapping a scarf around his neck to keep out the chill.   
  
"Sure will, Mr. Frodo," Sam responded, grinning. "It's easy, you'll see."  
  
The two left the smial as Bilbo waved to them. "You lads be careful, now," Bilbo shouted after them, and they hurried down the path with Sam in the lead.   
  
"It's just over that way where the big hill is," Sam directed Frodo.   
  
"But isn't that the hill with the pond at the bottom, Sam?" Frodo asked, concerned. "I don't think the ice is very thick on the pond yet," he continued, sounding a little worried. A swim in the summertime was one thing, but the icy pond water would be very unpleasant, and Sam's inability to swim came immediately to mind.   
  
"Nobody ever slides far enough to get to the pond," Sam told him. "Even the bigger lads end up stopping before they can get that far out." Sam pointed to the group of tweens and younger hobbits who had already gathered at the hill. "There goes Moro Goodbody, and he's a lot bigger than us. See? He didn't even get near the pond before he stopped."   
  
Frodo had to admit it was true. Even the larger tweens with their greater body mass weren't able to gain enough momentum to slide out onto the treacherous ice of the pond. He watched as one lad laid a shovel down and seated himself on it, grabbed the handle for balance, and waited for another lad to give him a shove down the hill. Down he went, yelling with glee, spinning in circles as he slid to a stop at the base of the hill.   
  
Halfred and Hamson were already there, laughing at each other as they slid down the hill and ducked the snowballs the little ones were throwing at them. They waved at Sam and Frodo, motioning for the two to join them.   
  
"'Mornin' Mr. Frodo," Halfred said jovially. "I see Samwise talked you out of your cozy home to come join us."   
  
"He did at that, Halfred," Frodo answered. "It looks fun."   
  
"Well come on and try it, then," Hamson said, pulling Frodo up the hill behind him. The four hobbits scrambled up the incline until they stood at the top. Halfred handed Frodo his shovel and Sam readied his own. In a few moments, the older two were giving Sam and Frodo a push to start them downhill.   
  
~*~  
  
Lotho was walking by a distance away, and caught sight of Frodo and Sam as they slid downward. ~Looks like my little cousin is having a good time~, he thought idly, watching as Frodo and Sam slid to a stop. Frodo stopped first and Sam just a little farther away, nearer to the pond. Hmmmm, the pond!   
  
Lotho's face broke into a broad, malicious grin as he turned quickly for home. He had an idea of how to make this game a little more fun.  
  
~*~  
  
"You were right, Sam, this is fun!" Frodo said, giving Sam a hand up the hill. "We never did anything like this in Buckland." Merry would love this, he thought, as he pulled himself up the slippery hill.   
  
"Aren't you glad you're here, then?" Sam asked, beaming at Frodo.   
  
"Yes, Sam," Frodo said after a moment. "I am glad I'm here, and I'm glad you came by this morning too."   
  
"And a fine morning it is, isn't it Cousin?" Lotho stepped toward them, a shovel in his hand. "Enjoying yourselves, then?"   
  
"Yes, Lotho, we are," Frodo answered politely. He hoped that if he were friendly, some of it might rub off on his aloof cousin. "Have you come to join in?"  
  
"I wouldn't want to miss it," Lotho replied with a smile. The smile transformed into a frown as Lotho looked at the shovel Frodo was carrying. "That looks a little worse for wear, if you don't mind my saying so," the older tween said, examining the handle where it joined the metal. "The handle has cracks in it, see? It might break on you, Frodo."   
  
Frodo had to admit Lotho was right. The shovel was old and the wood was becoming brittle. Several long, deep cracks were showing .   
  
"Here, mine's almost new," Lotho said, holding his shovel out to Frodo. "On your next turn, use it instead. It's much sturdier."   
  
Frodo searched Lotho's face for any sign of duplicity, but found none. The offer seemed to be genuine enough. Just as he was about to accept the shovel, Sam came to stand by his side.   
  
"Don't do it, Mr. Frodo," he said, starting at Lotho with mistrust. "I don't trust him."   
  
"What's this? Samwise Gamgee doesn't trust me," Lotho said with a hint of sarcasm. "Since when do your duties include making Frodo's decisions for him, then?"   
  
Frodo sensed tension rising and stepped in before it could grow any further. "There's no need to worry, Sam, I'm sure." Sam gave Frodo a look of concern, but stepped back. To Lotho, Frodo replied, "He's only being a good friend, and looking out for me."   
  
"I suppose so," Lotho said mildly, but gave Sam a slightly dirty look. "Ready?" He handed the shovel to Frodo.   
  
Frodo nodded and took the shovel in hand. He placed it on the snowy ground at the top of the hill and sat down on it with his legs crossed. Lotho gave him a good, hard shove and down the hill Frodo went, picking up speed rapidly, perhaps a little too rapidly.   
  
As the scenery whizzed by, Frodo thought he was going a little faster than he had on previous turns. He passed the point where the other lads had skidded to a stop, and to his surprise, he kept going! The icy pond loomed ahead coming closer and closer. Panic began to rise in him, and Frodo tried to dig into the snow with his fingers, dragging them to slow his perilous slide toward the ice.   
  
The snow on the hill was well packed from the shovels sliding on it, and Frodo had gathered impressive momentum on the way down. Now, as he reached a place where the snow was fluffy and soft, he could gain no purchase as his fingers furrowed through it. He shot forward, sliding out onto the ice of the pond. As he finally came to a stop, Frodo looked up in horror to see Sam, Halfred and Hamson all running toward him with shocked expressions, and Lotho brining up the rear.   
  
Minute cracks were beginning to form around him, and Frodo gasped as he looked up and locked his gaze with Sam's. The small cracks began to multiply and widen, the sound of their spreading like cruel laughter in Frodo's ears. "SAM!" Frodo cried out in terror as the ice gave way beneath him with a splintering crunch. Shovel and all, Frodo dropped through into the frigid pond water.   
  
He had never been so cold in all his life. Frodo thrashed in agony as he tried to grab the edges of the broken ice and pull himself out of the freezing water. The extra layers of clothing that had been keeping him warm now worked against him, making him heavy and soaking up more of the cold water. Every time he grabbed onto the edges of the ice, more of it broke off, and he sank again.   
  
"Mr. Frodo! Hold on!" Sam's panicked shout reached Frodo's ears and he gasped and thrust an arm out, reaching desperately.   
  
"Sam!" Frodo gasped as the cold stole the air from his lungs. "H - help me!" More ice broke away and his head went under for a brief moment. He came back up sputtering and coughing. The water seemed to clutch at him with icy fingers, loathe to give up its prize.   
  
"We've got to get him out of there," Sam shouted at his brothers desperately. The pond wasn't especially deep, but the longer Frodo remained in the cold water, the lower his body temperature would drop. If he lost consciousness, he could easily slip beneath the surface and drown, if he didn't succumb to hypothermia first. They had nothing to use to pull Frodo out of the hole in the ice, no rope, nothing! They couldn't get near enough to grasp Frodo's flailing hand, as the ice would not support them.   
  
"Use this," Halfred shouted, handing a shovel to Sam. "Form a chain, hurry!" The two elder Gamgees lay down in the snow, Hamson behind Halfred, gripping his ankles. Sam stretched out in front as Halfred held onto his feet. He reached the shovel out toward Frodo.   
  
"Grab it, Frodo! Grab it and hold on!" In his panic, Sam completely forgot the respectful 'Mr.' before the name, not that Frodo noticed or would have cared. Frodo flailed a hand out toward the shovel, missing it by a couple of inches.   
  
"C - can't r - reach it!" he gasped weakly. "C - closer!"  
  
Something almost like guilt surged briefly through Lotho's mind as he watched his cousin struggle in the water. It had been satisfying to see the rat fall through the ice, but things had gone far enough. He wasn't trying to kill the brat, after all, just make his life miserable. Besides, how better to escape suspicion than to heroically step in and save the day? It just might get Bilbo off his back for a while, and it would ensure that Frodo remained at least partially willing to trust him.   
  
"You heard him, get closer," Lotho said, crouching behind Hamson and pushing the other hobbits further toward their goal. He grabbed Hamson's ankles and held on, digging his heels in to anchor the chain. At the head of the hobbit lifeline, Sam cringed as he felt himself slide forward so that he was half on the ice and half on solid ground. The ice didn't seem inclined to break under his partial weight, though, and he stretched out toward Frodo with the shovel.   
  
The addition of an extra hobbit to the chain made the difference, and the handle of the shovel was now within Frodo's reach. He grasped it as tightly as his chilled fingers would allow and hung on.   
  
"Pull!" Samwise shouted, and the grip on his ankles tightened. He felt himself slide backward a few inches and felt the sharp, unpleasant sensation of snow against his skin as his coat rode up over his stomach. He gritted his teeth and ignored everything but the sight of Frodo beginning to emerge from the frigid water. "More! Keep pulling!" Sam locked eyes with Frodo and sent a silent plea. ~Hold on, Mr. Frodo, don't give up! Stay with me!~  
  
Frodo looked back at his friend, eyes filled with fear and pain, but comprehending. He nodded almost imperceptibly and held on, willing his fingers to obey the command of his mind. His hands slipped and he almost lost his grip on the shovel. His fingers were so cold, he was scarcely able to move them.  
  
The chain inched backward again, and Frodo moved forward a little further. The brittle ice continued to break around him as they pulled him toward the edge of the pond. They needed a good strong pull all at once if they were to raise him clear of the water.   
  
This truth was realized by the hobbits further back in the chain, and Hamson shouted over his shoulder to Lotho, "Pull hard on three!" There was an audible count to three, then Lotho lunged backward, letting his weight pull the other hobbits with him over the snow. They slid backward in a rush, and Frodo was lifted clear of the water to lie frozen and motionless but for his violent shivering on the ground at the edge of the pond.   
  
"Quick, Samwise! Run back and get Mr. Bilbo. Tell him to bring blankets. Hurry!" Sam nodded once and, obeying Halfred's command, ran as fast as he could back to Bag End. Gasping and breathing hard, he rang the bell urgently, repeatedly, until he heard Bilbo's voice coming impatiently from within.   
  
"Yes, yes! I'm coming!" Bilbo opened the door to find Samwise on the stoop, doubled over from running and looking at him wild - eyed.   
  
"Mr. Bilbo, come quick! It's Mr. Frodo - "  
  
"What about Frodo, lad?" Bilbo asked hurriedly, his voice tense and brittle. "What's happened?"  
  
"Mr. Frodo fell through the ice! We got him out but he needs blankets an' we have to get him back here!" Sam's words came out in a great rush, and Bilbo reacted almost as quickly. He grabbed a couple of quilts from the sofa in the parlor and handed them to Sam. He quickly donned his coat and ran into another room to grab another thick blanket.   
  
The two hobbits burst out the door almost as one. Bilbo struggled to keep up as Sam led the way as fast as he could. In a few moments they were kneeling by Frodo's side, where Halfred and Hamfast were rubbing Frodo's arms and legs to warm them.   
  
"Oh, Frodo, my dear boy," Bilbo said in a frightened voice as he helped pull off Frodo's sodden coat and wrap him in the blankets. "Say something, Frodo, please," Bilbo pleaded, cupping Frodo's blue - tinged face in his hands.   
  
"C - cold, s - so c - cold," Frodo choked out, as Bilbo held him in a tight embrace.   
  
"We'll get you home and get you warm, lad. Just hold on." Hamson and Halfred stepped forward to lift the blanket - wrapped hobbit from the ground.   
  
Lotho had stood back out of the way as Bilbo and the Gamgees tended to Frodo. They took no notice of him now, so concerned were they with Frodo's well - being. Bilbo hadn't even seen him there, it seemed. That was fine with him. He really wasn't trying to get anyone's attention, except Frodo's perhaps. A freak accident, nothing more. And no one would ever know about the wax.   
  
Lotho had hurried home after spotting Frodo and the Gamgees, and had grabbed the shovel from the shed. He had taken a candle and carefully dripped hot wax onto the back of it, where it would make contact with the slick surface of the hillside, increasing the speed and distance that Frodo would travel.   
  
He turned and walked away, wondering if his cousin had realized how accident - prone he had become since his arrival in Hobbiton. Did Bilbo? Perhaps there were fewer opportunities for such things to befall Frodo at Brandy Hall. Perhaps Lotho would make the suggestion himself, if the opportunity arose.   
  
~*~ To be continued~*~ 


	8. Fears and Regrets

Tavion - Lotho is getting more desperate as his attempts fail to produce the desired result, and he hasn't given up yet! I did allow him a little bit of humanity in the last chapter, but not much. Bilbo is not pleased!  
  
Iorhael - You're right, Frodo is too nice for his own good.   
  
GamgeeFest - It was hard to write about snow and ice with the hot weather! Not easy to describe something cold while you're roasting! Sam will become more protective of Frodo, certainly, and Lotho isn't finished being devious and mean.   
  
QTPie2488 - Memories of winter are almost fond when you're cooking in the heat of summer, aren't they? Frodo will have some time to consider what's been happening, and so will Bilbo.   
  
Bookworm2000 - Lotho's tricks are escalating in the amount of danger they put Frodo in. Frodo will suffer the consequences of his dip in the pond.  
  
Midgette - I'll hold Lotho still while you give him a good swift kick!   
  
Shirebound - Frodo will be pondering his cousin's actions and words in the next few chapters, at least he will when he feels up to it!  
  
Aratlithiel - Lotho had better watch his step, especially when he's around Bilbo! Major TLC coming soon! Frodo's got some problems to deal with besides his mean, nasty cousin.  
  
Amelia Rose - Lotho has definitely crossed the line this time. He's succeeded in making Frodo more than just uncomfortable with his latest trick. We won't get to toss Lotho in the icy pond water and watch Lobelia react, but we will meet up with her soon!  
  
LotRseer3350 - The idea for the wax came from my childhood. We used ski wax on the bottoms of our boots to slide across the playground at school. Some itty bitty good part of Lotho realized he might have made a mistake and prompted him to help out. He's not a nice person by any means, but he isn't one - dimensional either.  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Frodo has a bit of a rough road to travel before he's feeling like himself again. Lotho deserves some punishment for what he's been up to, and his bad Karma will eventually begin to catch up with him!  
  
Endymion2 - Lotho isn't a completely lost cause, but he has a long way to go before he learns something. And we all know by his eventual fate that he doesn't learn much! Lotho isn't done yet, I'm afraid.   
  
Arwen Baggins - Lotho is a mean one for sure. He has very little by way of a conscience, I'm afraid. There are indeed other ways to cause accidents besides spiking someone's drink and nearly drowning him, and Lotho has some ideas. Eventually, one of them is bound to backfire on him somehow.   
  
Aelfgifu - Would Lotho like to go to Crickhollow? He and Evil Merry would be a terrible combination where Frodo is concerned! Lotho has more mischief in his bag of tricks, but he's going to have to wait a little while. Frodo won't be out and about for at least a few days.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 8 - Fears and Regrets  
  
~*~  
  
Hamson and Halfred burst through the door of Bag End with their blanketed burden, while Bilbo and Sam followed on their heels. Frodo was shivering violently, chilled to the bone by the freezing pond water. His heavy, water - logged coat had been stripped off already, but the rest of his clothing still clung damply to him, worsening the chill.   
  
They laid him on a sofa before the fire while Bilbo went to get a clean nightshirt from Frodo's room. Frodo didn't protest as the others removed his wet clothing and dried him with the blankets. Bilbo slipped the nightshirt over Frodo's head and re-wrapped him from head to toe in fresh blankets.   
  
"Samwise, you know your way around, don't you lad?" Sam nodded. "Make us some tea, then won't you?" Bilbo sent Sam to the kitchen to prepare the hot beverage while he grilled Hamson and Halfred for details.   
  
"What in the Shire happened to him?" He asked sharply, holding Frodo close in an attempt to warm him further.   
  
"He slid into the pond, Mr. Bilbo," Hamson said with a concerned and confused look. "I don't understand it. Hal and I are a lot heavier than he is, and we didn't even get that close to the water."   
  
"Maybe he got too much speed at the top," Halfred suggested, trying to explain the incident.   
  
"Even if he did, he still shouldn't have made it that far out," Hamson said, refuting the statement.   
  
Sam came out of the kitchen with a sour look on his face and a tray in his hands. "I told him not to take that Mr. Lotho's shovel." He looked Bilbo in the eye and said flatly, "I don't like him."  
  
Bilbo blanched. "Lotho?" He threw a worried glance at the other hobbits. "Lotho was there?" Bilbo cursed himself silently for his inattention to detail. Why hadn't he noticed Lotho's presence? He gazed down at Frodo and knew it was because he had only been able to see one thing at the time - his precious boy in danger.   
  
"Yes, it was his shovel Frodo was using when he fell in," Halfred explained.   
  
"It was likely his doing," Bilbo ground out angrily. "He always seems to be nearby whenever there's trouble."  
  
~And where am I when trouble threatens?~ Bilbo's self - reproach flared within him as he gazed down at the shivering form of Frodo in his arms. So far, several accidents had befallen the tween since his arrival in Hobbiton, and Bilbo had not been present to help prevent them. Bilbo recalled his conversation with Saradoc and how the Master of Buckland had reminded him of his lack of experience in raising tweens. Had Saradoc been right? Was he not a proper guardian for Frodo, then?  
  
A light tap on his arm broke Bilbo's reverie and he looked and saw Sam holding out a cup of tea. "For Mr. Frodo, sir," Sam said quietly.   
  
"Thank you, Samwise," Bilbo said softly as he accepted the steaming cup. Frodo was still shivering, so Bilbo held the cup to his lips and encouraged him to drink. The chilled tween managed a couple of sips, then sank back against Bilbo's chest, pulling the blankets tighter around him.   
  
"Frodo, lad, you're going to be fine," Bilbo said as he brushed the damp curls back gently from Frodo's forehead. He turned to the Gamgees and smiled wearily. "Thank you all. You saved his life," Bilbo said, his voice betraying his emotion.   
  
"You should know we weren't alone, Mr. Bilbo," Hamson said reluctantly. "We had help."   
  
"Help? What help?" Bilbo looked at Hamson in confusion.   
  
"Lotho. He joined us in pullin' Mr. Frodo out of the water," Halfred explained. "He must have felt bad because Mr. Frodo was usin' his shovel when he fell in."   
  
"Hmmph!" Bilbo grunted. "If I didn't know you boys were the most honest in the Shire, I wouldn't believe it. The day that Lotho feels bad about anything he's had a hand in, I'll - "  
  
"Uncle?" Frodo's voice came softly from the pile of blankets. "It's true. Lotho helped pull me out of the water. He saved my life, too."   
  
Bilbo didn't want to cause Frodo any further distress, so he settled for hugging him close and holding up the teacup again. "Ssshh, Frodo, lad. Let's just get some nice, warm tea in you and get you off to bed, shall we?"   
  
Frodo sipped the tea obediently. His shivering was beginning to subside as he was warmed from inside and out. Hamfast and Halfred again lifted Frodo and helped carry him to his room, to bed. Bilbo thanked the Gamgees again and bade them farewell.   
  
"Mr. Bilbo?" Sam asked softly, almost timidly as he stood in the doorway of Frodo's room.   
  
"What is it, Samwise?" Bilbo said, listening intently to the young hobbit.   
  
"Can I stay?" Sam swallowed and continued. "Can I stay with him, please?"   
  
Bilbo smiled. Frodo had indeed found a good friend in young Samwise. "If you wish. I think Frodo will like that," he told Sam. To Halfred and Hamson, he said, "Please tell your father that young Samwise is safe here at Bag End, and that he asked to sit with Frodo."   
  
"We'll do that sir," Halfred replied with a nod. "He won't mind, I'm certain."   
  
"Sam, you stay here with Frodo for a few moments while I show your brothers out," Bilbo said, and Sam nodded. When they were out of hearing range of Frodo's room, Bilbo spoke to both of the older lads urgently.   
  
"Whether he helped in the end or not, I don't trust Lotho." Bilbo's gaze was sharp and piercing. "You say the other lads never wind up in the pond regardless of their size and weight?" Halfred and Hamson nodded. "And you say it was Lotho's shovel Frodo used when the incident occurred?" More nods. "I'd like a look at that shovel."  
  
"Might not be possible, Mr. Bilbo," Hamson said apologetically. "It went into the pond along with Mr. Frodo. Shovels do a poor job of floatin', if I may say so," he offered, feeling rather helpless.   
  
"I suppose you're right, Ham," Bilbo acknowledged. "Still, if you can think of a way to get that shovel back on dry land, I want to see it. It may seem that I'm actively looking for a way to blame this mishap on Lotho, and maybe I am. At any rate, a peek at that shovel would greatly ease my mind."   
  
"We'll try to think of somethin', Mr. Bilbo," Halfred said, smiling. If it would make Bilbo feel better, they'd be willing to try. In the meantime, Bilbo would be busy looking after Frodo.   
  
~*~ evening~*~  
  
Lotho thought back on the day's events with satisfaction. The look on Frodo's face as he'd slid past the usual point and onto the ice had been priceless, not to mention his expression as the ice had failed underneath him, sending him plunging into the chill water.   
  
The sense of satisfaction faded somewhat as another thought occurred to him. Frodo could at least have rolled off the shovel before he went under, couldn't he though? The shovel was lost, and Lotho would have to buy a new one or face the wrath of his parents.   
  
What if they figured out that the shovel itself was partly to blame? But how could they with it under water? The ice wasn't thick enough to hold any of them if they tried to go and fish it out. Supposing they waited until the first thaw to try it? Lotho wondered how long candle wax would cling to a metal surface under water.   
  
He told himself he was worrying needlessly. They'd never find out about the wax. They could suspect him all they wanted to, but proof would lie out of reach, in the mud at the bottom of the pond.   
  
~*~evening at Bag End~*~  
  
"Sam? Sam, is that you?" Frodo's voice was thin and a little raspy as he called out quietly to the person seated in the chair by the bed.   
  
"Yes, Mr. Frodo, I'm here," Sam said, leaning closer to hear what Frodo was saying.   
  
"You saved my life, you and your brothers," Frodo said, fighting back a cough. "I wouldn't be here if not for you."  
  
"Please don't talk like that, Mr. Frodo," Sam soothed. "You are here and that's all that matters, ain't it?" he straightened the down comforter, covering Frodo's feet where they had emerged from the covers. "Can I get you anything?"   
  
Frodo coughed again and brought a hand up to his throat. "Can you bring me some tea with honey? My throat hurts a little."   
  
"I'll get it right now, Mr. Frodo," Sam said briskly. "Anything else?"  
  
"No, thank you, Sam," Frodo replied as he leaned back into the pillows. What a strange day it had been! The few times he had slid down the hill earlier he had stopped well before reaching the pond. Then Lotho had lent him his shovel. Frodo frowned as he coughed again. It wasn't until after he had switched shovels that he ended up falling through the ice. Bilbo's mistrust of Lotho came to mind, and the things Bilbo had said in the parlor earlier. Had Lotho been to blame?   
  
Just thinking about it was making Frodo's head hurt. He rubbed absently at his temples. Why would Lotho want to do something like that to him? Was there something Bilbo hadn't told him? Some reason why the Sackville - Bagginses, Lotho in particular, would hold something against him?   
  
"Here's your tea, Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he returned to the room.   
  
Frodo took a sip and sighed as the warm liquid soothed his throat. "Sam, what do you suppose really happened today?" Frodo asked, wanting Sam's opinion.   
  
"I think Mr. Lotho tried to hurt you, that's what I think," Sam said rather forcefully. "I think you should stay away from him, Mr. Frodo."   
  
"Perhaps so, Sam," Frodo responded as he sipped the tea. "But why would he wish to hurt me, I wonder?"   
  
Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Mr. Frodo, but he's got a mean streak, he does."  
  
"Even so, he helped you pull me out of the water. Does that sound like something he would do if he truly wanted to bring me harm?" Frodo swirled the dregs of the tea in the cup as he waited for Sam to answer.   
  
"I can't explain that, nohow," Sam said, shaking his head. "Unless he wants to you to trust him for some reason," he finished, looking confused. "It don't add up, Mr. Frodo."  
  
"Indeed, it doesn't, not entirely." Frodo gave the empty teacup back to Sam and settled himself back against the pillows. Frodo knew the Sackville - Bagginses wanted Bag End, but what had that to do with him?   
  
Frodo had given little thought to his long - term future, it was true. So much had happened recently, it was too overwhelming to think of what might happen years hence. He certainly didn't want to think of Bilbo being gone, and any thoughts that followed from that notion he pushed aside. Frodo could imagine having a home of his own someday when he reached his majority. He pictured Bilbo living on to an impressive age in Bag End, even after he was no longer burdened with a tween to care for. To Frodo, Bag End would always be Bilbo's home.  
  
"I'm too tired to think any more, Sam." Frodo closed his eyes and let himself drift away from his thoughts.   
  
"Don't trouble yourself about it any more then, sir. Just sleep." Sam need not have offered the advice, for Frodo was already drifting off, the strain of the day having taken its toll.   
  
Bilbo stepped quietly into the room and stood by the bed with a hand on Sam's shoulder. "How is he Samwise?" He asked, trying to block out the memory of Frodo shivering in his arms, all but blue with the chill.   
  
"He's not sufferin' from the cold anymore, Mr. Bilbo," Sam said worriedly. "But he said his throat hurts and he's coughing some."  
  
Bilbo's face was clouded with worry as he gently felt Frodo's forehead. It was indeed rather warm. "I fear he may be coming down with something, Samwise. You may stay if you wish, but I shall take the next watch."   
  
Sam nodded, and seated himself at the foot of the bed. He was absolutely not going to leave Frodo's side, not when Frodo might have taken ill as a result of the day's events. They sat together in silence, two hobbits keeping vigil, one over a newfound friend, another over a beloved family member.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	9. In Harm's Way

Aratlithiel - Thanks for persevering and finally getting through to read chapter 8. Sam's plain hobbit sense is one of the best things about him. I think I see a line forming full of people waiting to give Frodo a big warm hug right now. Yes, you can be first!   
  
LotRseer3350 - Many warm Frodo fuzzies coming up. Our poor dear is in for a hard time for a bit, I'm afraid. (But what's new?)  
  
Tavion - If you liked the sweetness, love and devotion shown in the last chapter, you'll enjoy the next few. Frodo's going to be surrounded by the people who love him while he deals with being ill as a result of falling through the ice.   
  
Iorhael - Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. There's nothing like a nasty illness to make you feel sympathy for someone!  
  
Bookworm2000 - Yes, Lotho's nasty tricks do add up - to no good at all! Frodo will eventually know in no uncertain terms what Lotho is about.   
  
Krista2 - Of course I missed you! Lotho is a nasty devil indeed. Frodo has been sweet and polite, but everyone eventually has his limit!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - If you're looking for Frodo comfort, look no further. You'll find it here! Frodo does need a wakeup call regarding Lotho, doesn't he? Just wait. The day will come.  
  
Amelia Rose - Yes, poor Frodo is getting sick. If you could zap yourself into the story to give Frodo a big hug, would you take me with you? Closing Lotho up in a room with rabid wargs might be good fun. I wonder who would be nastier?  
  
Midgette - I do want to give them all a big hug, especially Frodo and sweet, loyal Sam. We'll have to see about that swift kick for Lotho.  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - Yes, we're going to have some angst as well as a lot of TLC.  
  
~*~  
  
Author's note - Frodo's illness was inspired by a nasty bug affectionately known as 'Russian flu' that tore through the small town I lived in around 1982. Closed the schools for a week and knocked its victims off their feet in a matter of hours, causing the worst headache, fever, dizziness and sore throat yours truly has ever endured.   
  
~*~  
  
Chapter 9 - In Harm's Way  
  
~*~Morning, Bag End~*~  
  
The sunlight crept through the window and woke Bilbo suddenly. He rubbed at his eyes and looked around the room in confusion. It was a moment before he remembered that he was in Frodo's room and that he and Sam had stayed by Frodo's side through the night.   
  
Sam had eventually fallen asleep, curled up into a ball at the end of the bed. Bilbo rose from his chair and revived the fire at the hearth. He then pulled a quilt from the armoire and covered Sam with it. If Frodo were to be deprived of Merry's company, at least he had found a loyal friend in young Samwise, and Bilbo was glad of it.   
  
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of coughing. He turned to find that Frodo had awakened, pale and feverish, with a deep, ragged cough. Bilbo hurried back to the bedside, and clasped Frodo's hand in his own. "Frodo, lad," he said softly. "Rest easy, my boy. Can I do anything for you?"  
  
Frodo opened his eyes slowly, to a blurry vision of Bilbo leaning over him. His head hurt terribly and his throat felt as though it were on fire. It hurt to breathe, to speak, even to think. "Uncle?" he whispered hoarsely. "May I have some water?"   
  
Bilbo nodded and hurried from the room to get a glass of cold water. When he returned, Sam had awakened and was already lifting the pitcher from the washbasin. "He's awfully warm, Mr. Bilbo," Sam said worriedly. "I'll get a cloth for his forehead."   
  
Bilbo nodded and helped Frodo to sit up so he could drink the water. "It seems you've taken ill as a result of your unplanned swim," Bilbo told the feverish tween. "I'm so sorry Frodo."  
  
Frodo frowned slightly. "Why, Uncle?" he asked quietly. Each word felt like sandpaper in his throat. "It wasn't your fault."  
  
"Was it not? Since your arrival here, several unpleasant things have befallen you, and I have prevented none of them." Bilbo wrung his hands in agitation. "Was I wrong about Brandy Hall, Frodo? Might it have been a better place for you, in light of these events?"  
  
"Tweens get injured and sick at Brandy Hall too, Uncle," Frodo informed him. "You mustn't blame yourself." Frodo succumbed to a brief but harsh fit of coughing.   
  
"But I do, dear Frodo," Bilbo replied sadly. "I promised to care for you and to keep you from harm, and here you are in harm's way again."   
  
"Oh, Uncle, please don't give up on yourself." Frodo reached out for Bilbo's hand and squeezed it lightly. "I know you're trying your best, and I'm sorry if I've burdened you - "  
  
"There shall be none of that talk, Frodo," Bilbo said softly, but sternly. "You are not, nor ever shall be a burden to me in the slightest. Please remember that, come what may." Bilbo brushed Frodo's hair out of his eyes as he spoke. "You are here because I love you, Frodo. You are here because I wish you to be. You do still want to remain at Bag End, do you not?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle," Frodo responded. "No amount of ill luck will drive me away, I promise."   
  
Ill luck. Perhaps the recent events were due entirely to circumstance, but something about the incidents still nagged at Bilbo's mind persistently. Lotho's presence at each event might just be coincidental, but Bilbo was inclined to believe otherwise. Lotho had been directly involved in Frodo's injury during the game. He had been with Ted when the barrels rolled out of the wagon. He had been present at the Yule party when Frodo had become - was 'ill' the right word? And now this.   
  
A terrible possibility occurred to Bilbo. Did Lotho know? Had the tween guessed at his plan of naming Frodo as his heir? Was he trying to harm Frodo for that reason? A hard, cold lump of fear settled itself into Bilbo's stomach at the thought. But how could Lotho be aware of Bilbo's plans? Bilbo told himself he was being absurd and turned his thoughts back to the young hobbit he cared for so strongly.  
  
"Here, Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he entered the room and placed a cool, damp cloth over Frodo's forehead.   
  
"Oh, thank you, Sam. You've no idea how good that feels!" Frodo slowly mopped his face with the cloth, then laid it over his eyes.   
  
Bilbo turned to Sam. "Samwise, do you think your mother could take time to watch over Frodo for a while today? I've an errand or two of some importance." Sam nodded. Bell Gamgee was always willing to help a neighbor, and with so many children of her own, she had plenty of experience with caring for sick tweens.   
  
"I'm going to prepare breakfast," Bilbo announced, and he left the room. A few moments later, sounds could be heard coming from the kitchen. Frodo dozed while Sam sat patiently nearby. After a short while, Bilbo returned with a tray for Frodo.  
  
"You and I can have our breakfast together at the table, Samwise. But first, ill or otherwise, Frodo must have something to eat." Bilbo prodded Frodo gently. "Frodo, lad, breakfast is ready."   
  
Frodo groaned and rolled over. "My throat is awfully sore, Uncle, but I'll try," he said, as Sam helped him sit up against the pillows. Frodo was able to manage the tea, some eggs with soft biscuits and applesauce. Having done as well as he was able, he lay down to sleep again as Bilbo removed the breakfast tray.   
  
Sam and Bilbo sat at the table in silence, eating breakfast and thinking worried thoughts about Frodo. When they had finished, Sam ran home to give Bilbo's message to his mother, and Bilbo made ready for his errands. A healer must be summoned, of course, just to make sure that Frodo was not seriously ill. He frowned as he thought of his other errand. An unpleasant prospect, but one that must be dealt with, he felt increasingly certain.   
  
~*~  
  
"Poor dear," said Bell, as she stood by the bedside. "Has himself a misery, to be sure." She took the chair by the bed and carefully took Frodo's hand. "Don't you worry for him, Mr. Bilbo. He'll be quite all right with me and Samwise to watch over him for a spell."  
  
"Thank you, Bell, you are a treasure," Bilbo said in response as he donned his coat. "I'll not be gone long, now."   
  
As Bilbo left Bag End, he noticed that the morning sun had already melted the snow from the path. He walked with a steady, purposeful stride toward his destination. First things first, he told himself grimly. If the Sackville - Bagginses were unaware of their son's attempts to harm Frodo, he would make them aware. Although Frodo seemed to think Lotho was not out to harm him, Bilbo felt that Frodo was being too kind in his assessment of his cousin's motives. A word with Otho and Lobelia was clearly in order.   
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo rapped grimly on the door of the smial, and waited. Lobelia opened the door and regarded him rather sourly. "Bilbo, what brings you calling this morning?" she asked, her voice devoid of anything resembling warm greeting.   
  
"A matter of some importance, I'm afraid. Are Otho and Lotho at home?" Bilbo would rather speak with the whole lot of them if he could. He wanted Lotho in particular to see the look in his eyes and to know what it meant.  
  
"They are out, I'm afraid," Lobelia said tartly. "You may come in if you wish, and I will inform them of your visit when they arrive home." She opened the door wider to admit Bilbo.   
  
"Hmmm, yes," Bilbo said as he entered. He did not move to take a seat, nor did Lobelia offer him one. That suited him just fine since what he had to say could just as easily be said standing. "It has come to my attention that Frodo has become perhaps a little more accident prone than normal of late," he said briskly, looking Lobelia in the eye.   
  
Lobelia's eyes narrowed. "And what has that got to do with anything? His clumsiness is none of our concern."   
  
Bilbo kept his temper with difficulty. "Frodo is not clumsy, Lobelia. And it strikes me as very interesting that every time something has occurred to harm him, Lotho has been present, if not directly involved."   
  
Lobelia's face reddened. "Are you saying that my son is to blame for that - that - Bucklander's ill fortune?" She stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at Bilbo.   
  
Bilbo wasn't about to back down. "I am saying that he had better not be." Bilbo ran down a list of the recent incidents. "Lotho hit Frodo rather hard in that game of toss - ball a few months ago, and those barrels in Ted's wagon didn't just decide to roll down the hill by themselves. Frodo had naught to drink at the Yule party besides a tankard and a half, and Lotho seemed to take a keen interest in his condition. And the incident at the pond - "  
  
"Lotho helped pull your precious orphan out of the water, if you recall," Lobelia spat angrily. "Or have you conveniently forgotten that he helped to save him?" She sneered at Bilbo as she spoke of the Yule party. "And how do you know how much Frodo had to drink at the Yule party? Were you with him all the while? I saw you talking with the Boffins and paying him no mind."  
  
"Frodo was too busy dancing to be drinking to excess, Lobelia. Lotho was extremely quick to pass judgment against him and accuse him of overindulging. Why, do you suppose, would he be interested in doing so?" Bilbo raised an eyebrow and stood his ground.  
  
"I don't know and I really could not care less," Lobelia intoned, still glaring. "As to the other things you're accusing Lotho of - "  
  
"Let me get to the point, Lobelia." Bilbo took a step closer, and was satisfied to see Lobelia step back in response. "I think Lotho feels threatened by Frodo's presence. I think he's attempting to do mischief to the lad for some reason. I would much rather be proved wrong, mind you."  
  
"And why should our Lotho feel threatened by someone like that?" She stressed the final word condescendingly.   
  
"Two words, Lobelia - Bag End." Bilbo raised his hand palm outward, to forestall Lobelia's protest. "It is abundantly clear to me that you and your family expect you shall inherit my home and possessions when I finally have the grace to expire." He let his gaze bore into hers. "I have not yet finalized any such plans, mind you, and I would think you would wish to take care, lest I make my decisions in less than a good mood."   
  
Lobelia tried to hide her dismay at Bilbo's words, and failed. "There is no need to be hasty, Bilbo," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "If Lotho has offended young Frodo, he shall apologize, certainly."  
  
"Frodo is very difficult to offend, Lobelia," Bilbo said with a tolerant smile. "I, however, am another matter. I would much rather Lotho keep his distance from Frodo for the time being. The lad is just settling in, and he needs some peace. Do we understand each other?"  
  
Lobelia eyed him disdainfully. "We do."   
  
"Very well, then. No need to show me the door, as I know where it is. Good day, Lobelia." Bilbo opened the door and stepped out, closing it firmly behind him.   
  
~*~  
  
Lobelia stood seething in the parlor. Bilbo would never have dared speak so to Otho! Imagine, Bilbo Baggins accusing her son of causing harm to that ridiculous Bucklander he had taken in, and insinuating that their inheritance of Bag End had yet to be decided! Surely he wasn't considering leaving everything to Frodo?   
  
She would raise the subject with Lotho, and she was certain of his reaction. He would be surprised at the accusations, and hurt, surely. If everyone just kept their tempers, all of this would blow over and things would be normal again. Wouldn't they? Surely that refugee from Buckland was just visiting and would go back where he belonged soon enough.   
  
Still in a huff, Lobelia returned to her needlework, stabbing the fabric viciously.   
  
~*~  
  
"Master Goodbody, good day," Bilbo said politely as he stood at the healer's door. "I was hoping you had some time today to come by Bag End. Frodo has taken ill, I'm afraid."  
  
Gordo Goodbody furrowed his brow as he searched his memory. "Ah, the young lad from Buckland," he said, and Bilbo nodded. "I heard about the unfortunate events of yesterday morning. I shall come with you to see to his condition immediately."   
  
Suiting action to words, the healer donned his coat and slung a bag over his shoulder. He followed Bilbo out the door and to Bag End to see to his new patient.   
  
As they entered the parlor and hung up their coats, Bilbo and the healer were met by the sound of coughing from down the hall. It wasn't a raspy cough just from the throat, but a deep, heavy sound from the chest, and Bilbo looked at the healer worriedly.   
  
"Hmmm, sounds like the lad is ill indeed," the healer said, picking up his bag and heading down the hallway. "A dip in cold water like that, followed by even a few minutes of exposure can bode ill, it's true."   
  
Frodo was sitting up in bed, wiping tears from his eyes as the coughing fit ended. Sam was rubbing his back and looking frightened, while Bell held Frodo's other hand in hers, patting it gently. "Frodo lad, you remember Gordo Goodbody? You met at the Yule party. He's a healer and he's come to look in on you."  
  
Frodo was suddenly glad of the feverish blush that already colored his cheeks, for it hid the embarrassed one that surged in the wake of the mention of the Yule party. "Yes, Uncle," Frodo responded quietly. "Master Goodbody," he nodded, trying to keep from coughing again.   
  
Bell relinquished her chair to Bilbo and gently drew Sam out of the room  
  
"Just relax a moment, lad," the healer instructed. He felt Frodo's forehead and looked into his throat, shaking his head slightly at what his eyes beheld. "I'll bet that's pretty sore, isn't it?" Frodo nodded. Master Goodbody listened to Frodo's breathing for a moment, then raised his eyes to Bilbo's with a concerned expression.   
  
"He must have a good deal of rest and plenty of liquids. The cold compress for his forehead is a good idea, and will help ease his fever. He has quite a bit of congestion in his chest, which can be dangerous if not treated." He opened his bag and removed a jar of salve. "This doesn't smell very nice, but it will release vapors that will help break up the congestion." To Frodo, he noted, "Coughing may be quite uncomfortable with your throat as sore as it is, but it's necessary. Don't try to hold it back, lad." He pulled a packet of something from his bag for Bilbo. "This is a medicinal tea that will ease his headache and fever, as well as help with the pain. He's to have some every four hours while the worst of the illness persists. You can reduce it to every 8 hours once he's breathing more freely."   
  
Bilbo nodded to the healer and went into the kitchen to summon Bell and Sam back into the room. "Samwise, would you brew up a bit of this tea please?" Bilbo asked and Sam immediately set to work. "Bell, please stay with Frodo for a moment, won't you?" She said nothing but went straight back to the tween's room.   
  
"Master Goodbody, it has occurred to me to ask you something, if you don't mind," Bilbo said nervously looking down the hallway.   
  
"Anything, Master Baggins," the healer replied calmly.   
  
"The Yule party. I assume you know what happened, or part of it at any rate?" Bilbo cast a quizzical look at the healer.   
  
"Well, yes, that is, I saw the lad's condition," Goodbody said evenly, trying to be polite regarding the subject.   
  
"And his condition was not what it appeared, I promise you." Bilbo searched the healer's face for any sign that he was not being taken seriously. "Frodo had very little to drink that evening. It should not have been enough even to make him slightly giddy. Is there anything someone might have slipped into his ale to have that sort of an effect?"  
  
The healer looked surprised at the question, but considered it nonetheless. "If what you say is correct and the lad did not imbibe an undue quantity, a bit of sleeping powder might have a similar effect." He thought further. "If it were to be added to an alcoholic beverage in more than a minute amount, it might well cause distress to a lad of such slim build as your Frodo."   
  
Bilbo nodded grimly. "Thank you, Master Goodbody, for answering that question."  
  
"Of course, Bilbo," the healer said, resisting the urge to inquire as to the reason for Bilbo's interest in the subject. If Bilbo suspected foul play of some sort, it was no one's concern but Bilbo's, lest he voluntarily share his suspicions.   
  
Bilbo escorted Master Goodbody to the door and thanked him again for his services as he made payment. His mind was whirling as he made his way back to Frodo's room. He remembered Lotho's snide comment about Frodo not being able to handle his ale, and grimaced. He regretted not a word that he had spoken in Lobelia's parlor that day.  
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	10. Sending Word

Amelia Rose - Frodo will have your sympathy for a while to come, I think. Lobelia is charming, isn't she?   
  
Endymion2 - Ahh, dear, lovely Lobelia! You would think Lobelia would see Frodo as a greater threat. She's just so haughty and overconfident regarding her family's position as Bilbo's closest relations that she refuses to see the truth that's right before her eyes. Lotho suffers the same deficiency.   
  
FrodoBaggins87 - Welcome! I'm glad you liked "On the Banks of the Brandywine", and that you're enjoying the sequel. I understand if you don't want to read my R - rated stuff, since that's not everyone's cup of tea. Thank you for your kind comments about my writing, and I hope I'll come up with some more enjoyable things for you to read in the future!  
  
LotRseer3350 - Bilbo just had to go tell at least one of those Sackville - Bagginses to back off! He hasn't been able to prove his suspicions about Lotho, but he's peeved enough to go tell them a thing or two.  
  
Midgette - Aww, I know. Frodo is too cute to be sick! Great opportunity to give him a hug if you want to, and for Bilbo as well. This particular trial will bring them closer and test Bilbo's mettle as the guardian of a tween.   
  
Shirebound - Bilbo has figured a few things out, but he is bound by conventions of manners and cannot push too hard without concrete proof. Frodo is going to have a rather unpleasant time for a bit, but he will be surrounded by enough love to make Bag End burst!  
  
Aratlithiel - Bilbo may be old, but he's still got a sharp mind, and a sharp tongue when need arises! Lobelia just can't believe that her dear son would be so nasty as Bilbo is accusing him of being. And now, on to more hobbit huggin' TLC.   
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Bilbo's greatest challenge is to prove that his suspicions regarding Lotho are justified. Lotho is smarter than those idiots back at Brandy Hall, though, and he will be going out of his way to make himself appear to be innocent. Lobelia is clueless. I don't think she would do any harm to anyone either, just verbal attacks. Otho (at least in this fic) has learned after years of dealing with Lobelia to just shut up and let her rant.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 10 - Sending Word  
  
  
  
~*~Bag End, nightfall~*~  
  
"It's almost ready, Mr. Bilbo," Bell said as she tested the temperature of the water in the bathtub. It was cool, but not really cold. Frodo's fever had risen alarmingly during the day, and any and all measures for reducing it were being taken.   
  
Bilbo stood at the bedside, and Sam sat back in a chair against the wall, well out of the way of the proceedings. Bell entered the room and stood at the foot of the bed, waiting.   
  
"Frodo, lad, wake up. Open your eyes." Bilbo cajoled softly. He reached out and shook Frodo lightly to rouse him. "I'm sorry, lad, but I must wake you now." He reached out again just as Frodo's eyes struggled open.   
  
Frodo's eyes were glassy and he seemed unable to see Bilbo, or at least unable to recognize him. As Bilbo reached out for him, Frodo shrank back, shaking his head and repeating, "No! Let me be!" As soon as Bell and Bilbo managed to grasp him by the arms, he began to struggle in delirium. "Merry! Merry, help me! Don't let them take me!" Frodo shouted as he fought the hands that sought to help him.   
  
Bell gave Bilbo a glance and shook her head. "It's the fever, Mr. Bilbo. Just hold on until he tires himself out." They did just that, still holding onto the feverish tween as his struggles grew weaker, his protests softer.   
  
"Merry - " Frodo gasped as his strength faded. "Where's Merry?"   
  
Bilbo fought the urge to break down and cry. "Merry isn't here, Frodo. It's me, Uncle Bilbo, and Bell Gamgee. We're trying to help you, lad."   
  
As Frodo's strength failed him and his struggling ceased, a look of near - comprehension seemed to come into his eyes for a moment. He fainted, and Bilbo and Bell carried him to the tub and eased him in.   
  
~*~  
  
Something cool and soothing washed over him and Frodo imagined steam rising from his body wherever the water touched him. He had been in the water for a little while before he understood that the hands he had fought against had meant him no harm, and that they belonged to someone he knew, someone he loved who loved him also.   
  
"There, now, Frodo lad. Is that better?" Bilbo asked in a near whisper as he continued to drizzle the cool water over Frodo's fever - heated skin. "I'm sorry, dear boy. I didn't mean to frighten you." More water, more whispered assurances.   
  
"Uncle Bilbo, I'm sorry," Frodo said, reaching to grasp the older hobbit's hand. "I didn't understand. I'm sorry I was difficult." Frodo knew he had fought them briefly, and all Bilbo and Bell had wanted to do was help him.   
  
"Ssshh, dear boy. It was just the fever, I know." Bilbo continued his efforts to soothe the young hobbit in his care. "A fever can muddle a mind, lad. Bell and I know you didn't mean to fight us."   
  
Only Bilbo knew, or thought he knew the things that might have been going through Frodo's fever - addled mind as he and Bell had attempted to rouse him and get him to the tub. Memories of fearful things could seem like immediate realities to a fever patient, especially if those memories rested near the surface. Frodo had struggled until his strength gave out, and it had been very difficult for Bilbo to have to restrain him as he kicked and twisted, crying out to be released.   
  
"It's time to get you back to bed," Bilbo ventured, slowly pulling Frodo upward out of the water. Frodo tried to push himself up in order to help, but he was so dizzy he found it impossible to do much besides to relax and allow himself to be lifted by Bilbo and Bell. Before the cool air could chill him again, Frodo felt himself being wrapped in towels and carried back to his room.   
  
Bilbo helped him into a clean nightshirt and tucked him snugly under the covers as Bell brought more of the tea the healer had left for him. Frodo drank it slowly and dutifully, for its taste was nothing to cheer about. Why must all cures be so bitter, he wondered dimly.   
  
"Sam, would you like to sit with Frodo for a while?" Bilbo looked over at the frightened youth in the corner. Sam swallowed and nodded. "Yes, sir." He sat down in the chair by the bed, then looked up at Bilbo again. "Mr. Frodo will be all right, won't he, Mr. Bilbo?"  
  
Bilbo spoke what he hoped with all his heart was the truth. "Yes, Samwise. He will be fine. The fever hasn't broken yet, and a fever can cause confusion if it's strong enough." He handed a cloth to Sam. "Keep this cool and lay it on his brow, lad." Sam nodded and took the cloth, submerged it in the basin by the bed and wrung it out.   
  
Bilbo led Bell from the room and into the kitchen where she refilled the kettle and placed it over the fire to warm. "Mr. Bilbo, if I may ask, who is Merry?" Bell's curiosity got the better of her, and she berated herself silently for blurting out the question.   
  
"It's all right, Bell," Bilbo said, as if reading her thoughts. "Merry is Frodo's cousin from Buckland. He and Frodo were always together when Frodo lived there. They were inseparable." Bilbo scrubbed his hand across his face. "I should summon them, Merry and his father."   
  
"It may not be as serious as all that, Mr. Bilbo," Bell soothed. She had seen some high fevers and she knew they were frightening to behold. Still, it might be rather soon to talk about summoning the rest of the lad's family.   
  
"Whether it is or isn't, I believe I shall write them and request that they come." Bilbo fidgeted with his pipe, making no move to light it. "Frodo asked for Merry, and it may just be that Merry's presence would be good for him."  
  
"If you like, I could get a message to a courier for you," Bell suggested. "I've got to run along home and cook up supper, and I could have Hamson run the message while I'm working." She looked at Bilbo for approval.   
  
"Very well. I'll be in my study, then," Bilbo said as he turned and left the room. He seated himself at his writing desk and brought out a sheet of paper and a quill. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and hovered over the blank page, struggling with what to write.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Dear Saradoc,  
  
I have no desire to incite panic among you, as it would serve no purpose. However, I must inform you that Frodo has taken ill with a fever, and he has called for Merry. I would deny him nothing that might ease his discomfort, and I know he misses his cousin. I, too, would be grateful for your presence.  
  
Would it be possible for you and Merry to come to Bag End? I realize I have given you no time to prepare, but events have proceeded without regard to anyone's schedule, I'm afraid.   
  
Bell Gamgee and her youngest boy, Samwise have been a great help to me these past two days. Sam has become quite a loyal friend to Frodo, but Frodo will always hold a special place in his heart for Merry.   
  
Please come if you are able.   
  
Best regards,   
  
Bilbo  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Bilbo folded the note into an envelope and sealed it with wax. He left his study and handed the note to Bell along with some coins. "Please pay the courier double if need be, but ask him to ride through the night if he will."   
  
"I'll tell Hamson to say as much, sir," Bell said as she accepted the message.   
  
Bilbo sent Sam home for supper with his mother, promising that he could come back afterward to help with the overnight watch. Once Bell and Sam had gone, Bilbo resumed his place by Frodo's side, and rubbed some of the pungent ointment on the tween's chest. The powerful scent roused the young hobbit and he coughed as he tried to sit up.   
  
Bilbo leaned Frodo back against the pillows. "Does it feel better to sit up, lad?" He asked solicitously.   
  
Frodo nodded. "I can breathe better this way," he whispered. Frodo looked at Bilbo and stated the obvious. "I feel awful."   
  
"That's no surprise, lad. You're most certainly very sick," Bilbo said as he poured Frodo a glass of water. "You need to drink this." He held the glass out and Frodo took it, relieved to see that it was just water and not another bitter draught of the healer's. The water did feel good against his sore throat and he drank all of it.   
  
"I'm tired, Uncle," Frodo told Bilbo as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I can't stay awake."  
  
"You sleep all you want to, Frodo. Master Goodbody's remedies tend to cause drowsiness." Bilbo said quietly. "I'll be here the whole time if you need anything. I'll be close by, I promise."   
  
Frodo closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, still in a nearly upright position. Bilbo listened to his breathing and thought it sounded better, clearer than before. The ointment must be helping.   
  
Perhaps he had been hasty in summoning Saradoc and Merry, but the memory of Frodo calling out for his cousin was stark in his mind, and he knew deep down he had done the right thing.   
  
Bilbo cursed Lotho silently for the role he might have played in placing Frodo in this predicament. If Frodo were lost to him as a result - no! He pushed the thought away and lit another candle, as if the light would be enough to chase away the fear he felt when he looked at the pale figure in the bed.  
  
~*~  
  
Lobelia stood with her arms crossed, glaring at everything and nothing. Otho sat in his armchair while Lotho reclined on the sofa. "You should have heard him, Otho," Lobelia snapped. "He all but accused Lotho of trying to kill that ridiculous little Bucklander he's taken in."   
  
"Now, Lobelia, I'm sure he didn't intend to imply that Lotho - " Otho failed to complete the sentence due to Lobelia's interruption.   
  
"He intended every word! He accused Lotho of being responsible for Frodo's outrageous behavior at the Yule party, as well as several other things. Why, he even declared that Lotho must be responsible for that mess at the pond the other day, and we all know that Lotho assisted in the rescue effort!" Lobelia paced back and forth, wishing Bilbo was there so she could smash him over the head with her umbrella.   
  
"Now, Mother, there's no reason to get excited over the ramblings of an old, mad hobbit, is there?" Lotho chimed in. He grinned disarmingly. "Of course I wouldn't try to harm Frodo. That's absurd."  
  
"Of course you wouldn't!" Lobelia ranted. "Where would he get such a notion?"  
  
"He's just being sensitive because he recently took the little orphan in. He's likely to jump at any shadow that falls over my little cousin right now." He smiled as he thought about Bilbo trying to protect Frodo from every little thing. "I don't think you should pay him any mind, Mother."  
  
"I probably shouldn't, Lobelia agreed. "But he did say that he has not made any firm decisions yet concerning the final disposition of his property. I believe he's threatening to cut us out of his will if any harm comes to Frodo." She looked at Lotho pointedly. "He said he wants you to stay away from your cousin."  
  
~Blast him!~ Lotho thought. Could he really suspect the truth? Lotho hadn't thought the old fellow was that quick on the uptake. Where had he slipped? Had he said or done something to give himself away, or was it just that Bilbo mistrusted him on general principles?  
  
"I'm sure it will blow over," Lotho said with more conviction than he really felt. "Don't trouble yourself any further over it, Mother."   
  
Lobelia sighed and resumed her seat in the parlor, taking up her needlework again. Lotho was such a good lad, and so smart! Of course Bilbo's accusations were false, and he was just speaking in anger when he threatened to deny them their inheritance. Still, every time she stabbed the needle into the fabric, she pictured herself stabbing it right into Bilbo Baggins' eye.  
  
~*~ 


	11. Answering the Call

FantasyFan - Now that the power failure is over in your area, you can join us again! The drama in this story is of a different kind than my last one. There will be more to come, of course. There is definitely a contest of wits and wills between Lotho and Bilbo. The only things holding Bilbo back are certain social conventions and a desire to keep from overprotecting Frodo to the point of driving the lad away. We know that Frodo wouldn't allow that to happen, but Bilbo's in a rather vulnerable state as Frodo's new guardian and he's struggling with his doubts. Lotho has such confidence that he decided not to share his activities with his parents. He thinks he can take care of this himself. Such arrogance!  
  
Shirebound - Frodo will get more comfort and love in this chapter. As to keeping Lotho away from him, I'm trying, but that nasty lad is quite persistent.  
  
Krista2 - Frodo is still quite ill. We'll get him on the mend soon, but not before we reunite him with Merry for a bit! Lotho is still lurking about and will be causing more hate and discontent eventually.  
  
Amelia Rose - Lobelia has a bad case of "not my child." It happens all too often that a parent will be blind to what a total monster his or her child really is. Merry can indeed brighten someone's day, and I'm going to let him do just that.  
  
Midgette - Would you believe I've never read any Harry Potter books? I've seen the movies though. The Dursleys and the Sackville - Bagginses do have one thing in common, and that's their doting, delusional attitudes regarding their bratty kids.  
  
Endymion2 - TLC is a good thing, and more is coming. You'll find out soon what Merry and Saradoc think about things. Otho is pretty much overshadowed by his family. He finds it easier to just retreat from Lobelia when she's ranting, and to just pretend his son is not a complete jerk. Remember Nils and Harriet Olson from "Little House on the Prairie?" That's similar to the Otho and Lobelia relationship in this fic.  
  
Bookworm2000 - Nasty Sackville - Bagginses! Gandalf saying that Lobelia's expression could curdle milk came to my mind also as I was writing. I wanted her to be just as sour as possible!   
  
CuriousCat - Lotho is definitely cultivating his devious nature. He does whatever it takes to achieve his ends. If he has to make nice for a while to throw Bilbo off, he will. Lotho will continue to be somewhat conflicted between the small bit of morality he has and his greed.   
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - You want Merry and Saradoc? You got 'em!  
  
Tavion - Why do we all like the hobbit angst? I think it's just that Frodo is so darn cute when he's scared, etc. It brings out the sympathetic protector in all of us. Lotho does have his parents fooled, doesn't he?  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Lotho is practically stalking Frodo. Poor lad gets no peace, especially when I'm writing! We'll be making Frodo better soon!  
  
Aelfgifu - Frodo is adorable on general principles, but when he's in need of a little comfort, we all line up, don't we? My hobbits are likeable? Well, MOST of them are, heh heh!  
  
LotRseer3350 - Will Merry and Saradoc want to take Frodo back to Buckland? The answer to that question will come up in another chapter or so.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
  
  
Chapter 11 - Answering the Call  
  
~*~Early morning, Brandy Hall~*~  
  
The sun had not yet risen at the early morning hour when the courier came dashing into the courtyard at Brandy Hall. As requested, he had left Hobbiton the previous evening just before sunset and had ridden all night at his best speed to deliver Bilbo's message to the Master of Buckland. He rang the bell and waited, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat to warm them.   
  
A female hobbit with a broom in one hand opened the large wooden doors just a crack and peered out. "Who's there?" she asked warily.  
  
"Messenger, ma'am," the courier said, tipping his hat politely. "I've a special urgent post for the Master, if I may."  
  
The female hobbit opened the door and invited the messenger inside. She leaned the broom in the corner by the hearth she had just been sweeping and offered him a chair by the fire. "I'll wake him," she said, and hurried from the sitting room.   
  
She tapped gingerly on the door of the Master's smial and waited, hoping she wouldn't catch it too harshly for disturbing Saradoc and Esmeralda at such an early hour. When she received no response, she sighed and rapped harder on the wooden door.  
  
The door opened and Saradoc stood regarding her with bleary eyes. "Dahlia, what time is it?" he mumbled, rubbing at his forehead.  
  
"I don't know the time, sir," she said nervously. "But there's a messenger here with urgent word for you, or so he says. I left him warming himself by the fireside."  
  
Saradoc frowned as he struggled to full awareness. Urgent word? From whom? "I'll be there in a moment. Would you be so kind as to get the fellow something warm from the kitchens? I'm sure he would be appreciative." Dahlia nodded and hurried away to find some hot food and drink for the messenger.  
  
The Master of Buckland emerged quietly from his family's quarters, being careful not to wake Merry and Esmeralda. He would let them sleep while he found out what was going on. The messenger sat warming his hands by the fire and Saradoc approached him quietly. "Good morning, lad. What news have you brought at this early hour?"  
  
The messenger looked up, startled, and jumped to his feet. "A message for you, sir. Urgent delivery from Hobbiton." The courier held out Bilbo's message.  
  
Saradoc was suddenly found himself fully awake upon hearing those words. "Thank you," he said as he accepted the message. "I've sent for something from the kitchens for you, so please make yourself comfortable," he told the courier. The courier nodded and resumed his seat as Saradoc stepped into the foyer to read the message.  
  
A look of concern crossed his face as he scanned the page. Frodo must be ill indeed if Bilbo had felt the need to send word to Buckland. It was easy to believe that Frodo would miss Merry at such a trying time, and Saradoc could imagine how worried Bilbo must be. He folded the message back into the envelope and strode back to wake Merry and Esmie.   
  
He reached Merry's room first, and gently shook his son to wake him.   
  
"Wha? Um, what's going on?" Merry opened his eyes reluctantly, still more asleep than awake.   
  
"I'm sorry to wake you so early, Merry, but we are going to Hobbiton immediately. You must rise and pack some things for the journey. A quick breakfast, and we'll be off," Saradoc told him, and Merry sat up and stared at him.  
  
Hobbiton? Now, this instant? "What's wrong? Has something happened?" Merry regarded his father with trepidation.   
  
"Frodo has taken ill, lad. Bilbo said that Frodo called for you, and he would like us to come to Bag End." As Saradoc finished the sentence, Merry's eyes grew large and his breathing quickened.   
  
"Frodo! Frodo isn't going to die, is he, Da?" Near panic gripped the young hobbit, and his father reached out to comfort him.   
  
"Now, Merry. We mustn't panic. Bilbo said nothing of Frodo's condition being so dire, but he feels your presence would be a comfort to your cousin." Merry seemed to be calmed somewhat by those words. "If we leave early and travel all day, we will be there late tonight, so let us make haste."   
  
Merry nodded, and jumped out of bed. Despite his father's reassurances, cold fear gripped him as he thought of Frodo being so ill. He pulled his pack out of the armoire and began stuffing his clothing into it hurriedly. When he had finished, he handed it to his father.   
  
"I've yet to wake your mother and tell her, so why don't you go on to the kitchens and tell them we need an early breakfast and a little something for the journey?" Saradoc sent Merry on his errand and turned to give the news to Esmeralda.   
  
He considered as he walked down the corridor. Was Bilbo jumping at shadows because he lacked experience in caring for an ailing youth? Somehow that didn't seem a good possibility, since Bilbo was not one to panic on general principles. Even so, he and Merry would go to Hobbiton as requested.   
  
~*~Late morning, Bag End~*~  
  
Sam and his mother had returned to watch over Frodo while Bilbo slept. Sam sat at the bedside while Bell brought in tea and porridge, hoping to get Frodo to eat something.   
  
"Mr. Frodo," Sam said quietly. "Wake up. It's time for breakfast."   
  
Frodo groaned and opened his eyes. He shuddered under the coverlet as a chill washed over him. "I'm not very hungry," he croaked weakly.   
  
"I know, dear," said Bell, "but you won't get well if you don't eat." She set the tray on the bedside table and helped Frodo prop himself up more firmly against the pillows. "It's just a mild porridge, love."   
  
Bell spooned up some of the porridge and held it to Frodo's lips. He accepted it obediently, and sighed wearily. "It must be very good, but I can't taste it," he rasped glumly. He had no appetite whatsoever, but he made a valiant effort to eat as much of the porridge as he could. More of the bitter tea followed afterward, and Frodo was suddenly glad he couldn't taste things properly.   
  
He slumped back against the pillows, shivering again. "I'm cold. Could I have another blan - " the sentence ended in a violent fit of coughing that left Frodo gasping for air and wiping his eyes. Sam leapt up to find another quilt and Bell took Frodo's hand in hers.   
  
"Thank you, Mrs. Gamgee," Frodo said softly. "I'm so sorry to have worried Uncle Bilbo so much."   
  
"Aye, dear, he is worried," Bell admitted. "But that's only natural. He worries because he loves you."   
  
Groggy as Frodo was from the effects of the tea, it took a moment for Bell's words to sink in. Bilbo was worried because he loved Frodo. He had likely been by Frodo's side through the night, taking his own rest only when Bell and Sam had arrived to relieve him. Frodo felt happy and guilty all at once.   
  
He was happy that someone loved him enough to drop everything to be so close at hand, and felt guilty because his frequent foolish accidents were causing such disruption in Bilbo's life. He wanted more than anything to get well quickly so Bilbo wouldn't be so troubled.   
  
The tea was beginning to affect him and he felt himself drifting off, still shivering beneath the blankets.   
  
Sam looked from Frodo to his mother. "Mum, I know you an' Mr. Bilbo said Mr. Frodo would be all right, but I'm scared." Sam told his mother fearfully. He'd seen his brothers and sisters come down with fevers and he himself had been ill on occasion, but he had never seen anyone look quite so ill as Mr. Frodo.   
  
"He will be, in time," Bell answered. "He just needs us to watch over him and give him our love." Even though Bell had only known Frodo for a short time, she found that she cared very much for the polite, bookish tween. Frodo had been a good friend to Samwise, and she loved him all the more for it.  
  
Sam looked down at his ailing friend. "You get well, Mr. Frodo," he whispered. "You have to. You're the best friend I've got." Tears threatened as Sam smoothed the coverlet absently. "Please, Mr. Frodo."  
  
~*~  
  
The afternoon was passing slowly, as Bilbo sat at Frodo's bedside, staring into space while Frodo slept. Bell had gone to tend to her own family for a while, but Sam remained as he had before. Seeing Bilbo's sad expression as the older hobbit stared away into emptiness, Sam gathered his courage and spoke.   
  
"Mr. Bilbo, I wonder if it might cheer Mr. Frodo up to hear a story? Maybe you could read to him from one of those books." Sam looked at his toes for a moment. "I would, but I can't read," he said sadly.   
  
Sam's voice brought Bilbo back to himself, and he regarded the young hobbit kindly. "I do remember Frodo saying something about that, lad, and I'm sorry to not have done anything about it sooner. All the commotion, you understand."  
  
Sam nodded as Bilbo continued. "Frodo asked if I might begin teaching you as long as your Gaffer doesn't mind."  
  
Sam's expression brightened. "I've asked him, and he says as long as I'm not getting in the way, it's all right." Sam smiled slightly and said, "Although he says he don't know just why a gardener needs to concern himself with readin' and writin' and such."   
  
Bilbo smiled in spite of himself. "I would have expected nothing else from Hamfast," he confessed. "Your father is a very practical hobbit, Samwise. He's not likely to see the value in such things as being able to read until we show him a good use for such a skill."   
  
He looked at Sam intently. "If we begin your lessons, you must promise to apply yourself diligently, and make good use of the time spent."   
  
"Oh, I will, Mr. Bilbo, I promise," Sam said earnestly. "Thank you, sir."  
  
"You're welcome, young Samwise. Now, let me see. Ah! I know just the thing." He gazed at Frodo's sleeping form for a moment. "I've a book of tales in my study that I think would suit the fancy of two adventurous lads. I'll fetch it, and when Frodo wakes again, we shall enjoy a story together."   
  
Bilbo rose and left the room, intent upon finding the book, and Sam seated himself at the foot of the bed to wait.   
  
~*~ Evening, Hobbiton~*~  
  
Ted Sandyman swirled the last of his ale in his tankard for a moment. He looked across the table at Lotho and spoke quietly. "That cousin of yours has taken ill, I heard."   
  
"Serves him right for getting in the way of the proper order of things," Lotho said sullenly. He had been trying to think of a way around Bilbo's promised vigilance and was coming up blank. Three of the six months were gone, and he had little time to get the Bucklander to change his mind about staying.   
  
"What if he don't get better, Lotho?" Ted was saying, a grim expression on his face. "What if they find out you helped sink him in that pond?"  
  
"They're not going to find out," Lotho shot back. "Unless of course, you tell them." Threat was implicit in the tween's gaze. "You're not planning to, are you Ted?"  
  
Ted swallowed hard. "Well, no, I don't plan to. Ain't my business, after all."   
  
Lotho nodded, satisfied. "Assuming he does get better, I've got less than three months to get him to leave. And Bilbo suspects something, too. He's not likely to let me get very near to Frodo any time soon."  
  
"He ain't watchin' over him all the time, is he?" Ted reasoned, downing the last of his ale.   
  
"Well, no, he can't be. It wouldn't be possible." Lotho drummed his fingers on the table as he thought. "Hints may not be working, Ted. If things keep going as they are, I'm just going to have to have a talk with my cousin."  
  
"A talk? But old Bilbo said - "  
  
"Dash what the old fool said!" Lotho spat vehemently. "I'll find a place where I can get the Bucklander alone for a few minutes, and I'll convince him." Until then, Lotho would have to bide his time and be very subtle.   
  
"How are you going to do that?" Ted asked, genuinely curious.  
  
Lotho looked across the table at his companion slyly. "Oh, I'll think of something. Trust me. I'll persuade him."   
  
Ted glanced nervously from his ale back to Lotho. Just what sort of 'persuasion' did Lotho have in mind, and how could he manage it if he wasn't able to get anywhere near Frodo? "How you gonna get Frodo to talk to you after all this? Bilbo must've warned him and all - "  
  
"Don't remind me." Lotho took a draught of his ale. "I'll back off for a while and let the little creep recover. I'll leave Frodo alone for a bit until he drops his guard."   
  
"How can you be so sure he will?" Ted questioned.   
  
"Because Frodo is one of those kind - hearted types who wants to see the best in everyone," Lotho explained. "He has such a complete blind love and trust for Bilbo and he just can't conceive of any member of his family bearing him ill will. He's too innocent." Lotho's eyes narrowed. "I know he'll drop his guard because he wants us to be friends. So, we'll be friends." Sarcasm was evident in the tween's speech, and an ugly gleam of malice and frustration shone in his eyes.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	12. Reunion

FantasyFan - Lotho is definitely not the kind of friend anyone needs. Merry will certainly be watching over Frodo, but alas, only for a short time. Lotho is absolutely no match for Bilbo in any sense, and deep down he knows it.   
  
LotRseer3350 - Lotho does have a couple more tricks to pull, the nastier of which will have unforeseen consequences, even for him!   
  
Bookworm2000 - I'm afraid Merry won't be but a few days in Hobbiton, but he will be an immense comfort to Frodo while he's there, and he'll get to meet Sam! Lotho may inflame your wrath further yet. Give him time!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Will Lotho ever learn? Doubtful! You'll see Merry and Saradoc at Bag End in this chapter.   
  
Endymion2 - It would be nice to just be allowed to rest when all heck is breaking loose. Here's a hint. Push your bed close to the wall and take the inside. That way, your husband is closest to the action and he'll have to take care of whatever's happening or endure you crawling over him! Nobody needs a friend like Lotho. We're getting closer to the nasty trick that, in my opinion, makes this story interesting.  
  
Aratlithiel - Lotho will use anything available against Frodo, including the lad's own kind heart. Poor Frodo. We'll cheer him up soon!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - If only Frodo had some of Lotho's duplicity in him, he might see the truth for what it really is. Unfortunately, he's so kind and innocent, he has a hard time believing his own kin could be so awful to him. The protective Sam we know and love is taking shape here.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 12 - Reunion   
  
  
  
~*~Late night, Bag End~*~  
  
Bilbo carefully mopped Frodo's forehead with the cool, damp cloth. The day had passed slowly, or so it seemed, with Bilbo and Sam watching over Frodo as he slept and helping him to sit upright when he found breathing difficult. Sam was in the next room, exhausted and sound asleep.   
  
Bilbo had given Frodo some of the healer's tea. The sedatives were allowing the tween to sleep and thereby escape at least some of his discomfort. The fever had dropped from its dangerous peak, but had yet to break. Thankfully, Frodo had not become delirious again, but he was weakened and so dizzy he couldn't even walk to the privy without support.   
  
Bilbo sighed, and his brow creased with worry. "Frodo, lad," he whispered to the sleeping figure under the comforter, "if only I could make you well by merely wishing it to be." If such power could ever be given to him, Bilbo would ensure that Frodo never took ill again. "But I'm just an eccentric old hobbit, and my wishes will not turn the tides."   
  
Frodo's chest heaved and a coughing fit wracked him, waking him rudely from his slumber. Bilbo thumped him on the back as Frodo fought for air between waves of painful coughs. When the spell had passed, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Frodo and just held him.   
  
"Oh, my poor dear boy," he said as he rubbed Frodo's back. The doorbell rang, and Bilbo reluctantly released Frodo from his embrace. "Rest easy, lad. I'll be right back," Bilbo promised as he made his way to the front door.   
  
He opened it to find Merry and Saradoc there, anxious and red - faced from the cold. "Thank the Valar you've come," Bilbo said as he ushered them inside. "Where are your packs?"  
  
"Master Gamgee will bring them when he's seen to the pony and the cart. A good fellow, Hamfast," Saradoc remarked, trying to ease the tension he saw in Bilbo's posture and countenance. "Frodo - how is he?"   
  
Merry looked at Bilbo pleadingly. "Can I see him? Please, Uncle?"  
  
"Frodo is still feverish and he coughs until he's just worn out," Bilbo informed them. "He's been sleeping as he can, but he's very uncomfortable. Please let me take your coats and you may see him, certainly."   
  
Bilbo hung up the travelers' garments and led them down the hall to Frodo's room. "I've given him a sedative the healer brought," Bilbo explained as they neared the room. "If he isn't having a coughing spell, he's likely to be asleep."  
  
Merry entered the room first and was dismayed to see his favorite cousin's listlessness and pallor. He stood by the bed gazing numbly at Frodo as Saradoc laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Fear not, Merry. Frodo will be all right," Saradoc said softly. "You know how strong he is."  
  
Merry nodded. He had seen his cousin through many harsh trials, and he had no doubt of Frodo's tenacity and determination. But how much help were those traits against something like this, he wondered? Frodo could strike back against a physical enemy, but what kind of battle was he fighting now? One Merry couldn't help him win, at least not directly, the young hobbit thought sadly.   
  
"May I stay here for a while with him, please?" Merry asked quietly.   
  
"Yes, Merry, if you wish," Bilbo told him. "Your father and I will be in the parlor. Call us if Frodo needs anything."   
  
"I will," Merry answered, turning his attention back to his cousin as Bilbo and Saradoc left the room. Frodo had drifted off again, and Merry gently took his hand. It felt cold and clammy, and Merry rubbed it gently to warm it.   
  
"Frodo," he said softly, "Do you remember the time I got so sick when I was little?" Merry knew Frodo didn't hear him, and he didn't expect an answer. He continued speaking just the same. "You wouldn't leave my room, no matter how much anyone pleaded or threatened. You just stayed there, and they had to bring your meals to you. You practically moved in," Merry said, smiling at the memory.   
  
"You were the last person I saw when I fell asleep at night, and the first one there when I woke up in the morning." Frodo's hand felt warmer, and Merry gently laid it back against the covers. "When I was awake and I felt so terrible, you distracted me by reading me stories, and even making some stories up on the spot. You're so good at those things, Frodo, much better than I am." Merry frowned to himself. "I'm not sure what I'm good at yet, but I'll know someday."  
  
Merry had been staring off at nothing as he said those words, and he didn't see Frodo open his eyes and look at him. A voice so thin and raspy he hardly recognized it rose from the heap of covers and pillows.   
  
"You're good at being a friend, Mer."   
  
Merry's eyes darted to Frodo's and remained there. "Frodo, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Merry said, pulling the chair closer to the bed.   
  
"I'm glad you did, Merry. I thought I was dreaming, but it's really you." Frodo's brow creased as he struggled against the headache that no remedy had been able to dull. "When did you get here?"  
  
"Just a short while ago," Merry answered. "Uncle Bilbo sent for us. He's so worried about you, Frodo. I can see it in his eyes." Merry felt tears welling in his own eyes and he didn't hold them back. "I'm worried about you too."  
  
"Well I'll have to get better then," Frodo said, forcing a smile. "It won't do to have Bag End filled with worried hobbits." The sentence was punctuated with a series of coughs, and Merry reached for the pitcher on the table. He filled a glass with water and handed it to Frodo.   
  
"Are you feeling any better?" Merry asked hopefully.   
  
"A little," Frodo answered. "But I still feel awful. My head hurts and I'm dizzy. I don't feel much like eating anything, and my throat hurts terribly."   
  
"You should go back to sleep then," Merry said as he fluffed up the pillows. "I'm going to stay right here, I promise." He wondered how it was that Frodo had become so ill, but now was not the time to press for details.  
  
"Thank you," Frodo said as he let his eyes drift closed again. Within minutes, he was asleep once again, under the watchful gaze of his younger cousin.  
  
~*~  
  
"Bilbo fidgeted with his pipe as he and Saradoc sat by the fire catching up on recent events, including Frodo's dip in the pond. "I can't find the words to say how much the lad means to me, Sara," Bilbo said haltingly. "If I lose him - Oh! But I can't!" Pent up emotions writhed to the surface as Bilbo gave voice to the fears he had held in silence since Frodo had fallen ill. "I couldn't bear it, Saradoc. He's been here only a short time, but he's so much in my heart, as if he's always been here."  
  
Saradoc nodded. He'd always known that somehow the bond between Frodo and the aged hobbit was special. "Love is never an easy thing, Bilbo," he said with a sigh. "Nothing worthwhile ever is." He lit his pipe and reached for Bilbo's. "You're blaming yourself, I can tell."  
  
Bilbo looked at Saradoc sharply. "If anyone is to blame it is I, for not having been more vigilant. Something ill is afoot here, I feel it!"  
  
"What do you feel, Bilbo?" Saradoc regarded Bilbo curiously.   
  
"I think petty jealousies and greedy notions are to blame for Frodo's condition. The Sackville - Bagginses want to get their hands on Bag End so badly they can think of little else." Bilbo's gaze narrowed. "And Lotho has been conspicuous by his presence every time something untoward has happened to Frodo lately. That boy is devious and mean, and I think he feels threatened by Frodo's presence here."  
  
"Hmmph," Saradoc snorted. "That would be quite in character for the lad, I must admit. But what reason has Lotho to feel threatened at this time? You haven't spoken of your intentions to adopt Frodo, have you?"  
  
"Not yet," Bilbo admitted. "It is my intention that the Sackville - Bagginses will not know of that until the documents are signed and finalized."  
  
"A good plan, I believe," Saradoc said, nodding approval. "They need not know anything more than that Frodo is living here for the time being. Have you any proof that Lotho is behind any of the mishaps?"  
  
Bilbo frowned. "Only the toss - ball incident. That was quite plainly Lotho's doing. I've no proof of anything further, but my intuition tells me Lotho had something to do with Frodo ending up in the pond." He glowered into the fire as he puffed on his pipe. "Eru help him if I am able to prove him responsible."  
  
"Let us worry about that later, Bilbo. Right now our chief concern is Frodo." Saradoc looked down the hallway that led to the lad's room. "Merry was beside himself when your letter arrived. We couldn't get here fast enough to suit him."   
  
"Yes, I can imagine," Bilbo said, thinking of how devoted Merry had always been to Frodo. "Perhaps my note made things sound worse than they really are, but you should have seen him when the fever peaked, Sara." Fear stole into the hobbit's eyes and voice. "He didn't know us, and he fought us to the limit of his strength as Mrs. Gamgee and I tried to get him into the bath to cool him down. I don't know who he thought we were, but after his recent experiences, I have some guesses."  
  
Saradoc nodded. "A high fever can cause hallucinations, among other things. It was wise of you to immerse him in a cool bath."  
  
"It was Mrs. Gamgee's idea," Bilbo said, thinking of how much experience Bell had with children in all states of health and illness. "I didn't know what to do. I was at a loss, Sara."   
  
"Some things must be learned as they are experienced, Bilbo. Nobody is born knowing such things, but we learn from those around us." Saradoc smiled encouragingly. "Do you think I had any notion of what to do the first time Merry took ill? I was quite new at parenting, and was rather out of my element if I may say so. The women took over and insisted that I stay out from under foot while they cared for him. My role was reduced to amusing him when he grew bored of long days in bed with nothing to occupy him."  
  
"And I haven't the luxury of a crowd of women folk to push me out of the way, it's true," Bilbo admitted. "But I felt so helpless, Sara. I still do. There the poor lad is, sicker than I would ever wish even my worst enemy to be, and I can do nothing but watch and wait."  
  
"And we watch and wait together," Saradoc said as he added a log to the fire. "You and Mrs. Gamgee have done very well by Frodo. There is no need for any self - recrimination or regrets, Bilbo." Saradoc looked directly into Bilbo's eyes. "Love can do remarkable things, believe me. There is enough love here to pull Frodo through this and so much more."   
  
"I do hope you're right," Bilbo said wearily as he let his gaze wander down the hallway.   
  
~*~  
  
Sam woke with a start. He thought he had heard voices in Frodo's room. Who was there, and why? Was Frodo in danger? His worries snapped him to alertness in an instant, and he hurried the short distance to Frodo's room. Upon reaching the doorway, he was startled to see another hobbit near his age sitting in the chair and watching over the ailing tween.   
  
"Beggin' your pardon, but how is he?" Sam asked, keeping his voice low.   
  
Merry looked up, startled by the newcomer. "He's still got a fever, and he said his head hurts," Merry answered. Who was this lad in the doorway? He remembered Frodo's letter and a name came to him. "You must be Sam."  
  
Sam nodded. "That's me. Are you Frodo's cousin?"  
  
Merry nodded. "Meriadoc Brandybuck. It's a pleasure to meet you, although I wish we were meeting under different circumstances. You can call me Merry. Everybody does."   
  
Sam colored and reminded himself that this lad was the son of the Master of Buckland. "It's nice to meet you too, Mr. Merry," Sam replied, settling for familiarity merged with respect. "Mr. Frodo has naught but the best to say of you, no mistake."   
  
"He told me a lot of good things about you in his letters," Merry answered, motioning for Sam to come into the room. "Is it true that you're going to be Uncle Bilbo's gardener someday?"  
  
"Yes sir, if he'll have me, that is," Sam said modestly. "Me da takes care of the garden now, but his joints are fair stiffened some days. He's taught me a good bit about gardening, he has."   
  
"That's a big garden, too," Merry commented as he stood up to peer out the window into the darkness. "Is it all flowers and bushes, or do you grow vegetables?"  
  
For the next half hour or so, Sam told Merry about the garden, and Merry answered Sam's shy questions about Brandy Hall. Frodo slept on despite the quiet conversation.   
  
~*~  
  
The doorbell sounded again, and Bilbo greeted Bell and Hamfast Gamgee.   
  
"We know it's late and all, but we thought we would stop by to see how Mr. Frodo is faring," Hamfast explained. "And I reckon it's time we fetched Samwise home for a spell." The Gaffer looked at Bilbo earnestly. "He's not been under foot and makin' a nuisance of himself, has he Mr. Bilbo?"  
  
"Far from it, Hamfast," Bilbo assured him. "He's been both a great help to me and a comfort to Frodo." Bilbo led the way down the hall. "Sam was resting a while ago, but like as not we'll find him in Frodo's room."  
  
Bilbo's assessment was accurate, and Sam was indeed seated at the foot of the bed, talking quietly with Merry.   
  
"Time to make for home, Samwise," Bell said softly. "Mr. Frodo has plenty of company for the moment, and you need a proper rest in your own bed."   
  
Sam nodded. "Yes, ma. This is Mr. Frodo's cousin, Mr. Meriadoc Brandybuck from Buckland," Sam gestured to Merry.   
  
"How do you do," Bell said with a polite nod to Merry. Having already met Merry and Saradoc outside earlier, Hamfast followed suit as Sam stood up and made ready to leave with them. Bell walked to the bedside and gazed down at Frodo as he slept. "You just rest easy, poor dear," she whispered. "Poor lad's had a time of it these past few days, he has."   
  
Merry was heartened by the kindness in Bell's eyes and voice. If Frodo were surrounded by such good folk as the Gamgees, he should be happy at Bag End indeed. He suddenly felt much better about Frodo's decision to move to Hobbiton, and he smiled.   
  
The Gamgees took their leave, a reluctant Samwise trailing behind his parents.   
  
"I fear we've neglected our supper with all the excitement this evening, Merry," Bilbo said. "I'm tempted to wake Frodo to see if he has any interest in eating, but he needs to rest as well," he noted. An idea struck him and he looked at Merry again. "Would you like to take your supper here while you watch over Frodo? If he should wake and ask for something, you could come and tell me."  
  
"That would be fine, Uncle," Merry replied. "I don't want to leave him right now, for supper or anything else," he said protectively.   
  
The late supper came and went, and the nighttime hours lengthened slowly on. Merry insisted on keeping the vigil, and promised to wake everyone if anything changed, for good or ill. Through the night, Frodo woke occasionally, and Merry did his best to make his cousin comfortable, praying that the worst of the illness had passed.   
  
~*~Bag End, early morning~*~  
  
Merry woke and rubbed his eyes. When he realized he'd fallen asleep, he silently cursed himself for not remaining alert. What if Frodo had needed him? He looked at Frodo anxiously in the dim light of the candle on the bedside table. Frodo looked so still, so pale. For a moment, Merry felt fear grip him and he reached out to brush his Fingers across his cousin's forehead.   
  
Frodo's skin was cool to the touch, though not cold, and Merry's heart leapt with hope. He bent low over Frodo's chest and listened to his breathing, which was quiet and even, not as congested as it had been. In a flash, Merry ran from the room, calling out in his gladness.   
  
"Uncle Bilbo! Da, come quick!" he shouted as he ran down the hallway. Bilbo and Saradoc had both fallen asleep in the parlor, not wanting the closed door of a bedroom to stand between them and news of Frodo's condition. They came alert instantly at the sound of Merry's voice, leaping to their feet.   
  
"What is it, Merry?" Bilbo said urgently as Merry nearly ran him down in his haste to deliver the good news.   
  
"It's Frodo! His fever's broken! Frodo's getting better!"   
  
A look of pure joy and boundless relief spread across Bilbo's haggard features as he hurried down the hall with Saradoc close behind. Merry's excited shouts had awakened Frodo, and he looked up in confusion as his room became suddenly crowded.   
  
"What's all the noise about?" He asked dimly, rubbing at his eyes. He suddenly realized he wasn't dizzy anymore and his headache had receded to a dull throbbing rather than the overwhelming agony it had been.   
  
"You're getting better, Frodo," Bilbo said happily. "You gave us a scare, my lad, but you're going to be fine," the elderly hobbit said as he embraced Frodo. "How do you feel, my boy?"   
  
"I'm hungry," Frodo answered, and relieved looks were exchanged around the room. Saradoc herded Merry out of the room and toward the kitchen to find something Frodo's still tender throat could abide, and Bilbo remained at the bedside, tears of joy streaming down his face as he held Frodo's hand, rejoicing in the grip that answered his own.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	13. Visitors

Pansy Chubb - Nice to meet you! You're right, keyboards and chocolate don't mix, which is a sad thing for us chocoholics. If nothing else, Bilbo and Saradoc have learned to be up front with each other. Saradoc has managed to get over a lot of his misgivings about Frodo staying in Hobbiton due to Bilbo's performance in "On the Banks of the Brandywine." Merry startled everyone by hollering in the middle of the night, but good news is an enjoyable shock. Poor Frodo. Frodo doesn't completely trust Lotho, but he's on the edge. He's never encountered a family member like this before, and his desire to live in harmony is getting in the way of his hobbit sense. He's still young, after all, and this is the same hobbit who wouldn't give up on Gollum, for better or worse. Frodo has met with outright bullying before, but this is something different, something new. Please don't despair of Frodo yet. He will show himself to be the better hobbit, and Lotho will get his! ~Whew! That was a windy response, wasn't it?~  
  
  
  
Amelia Rose - We needed some sweetness amidst the strife! I figured Merry and Sam met somewhere along the way, and why not now? Merry is just what Frodo needed.   
  
Shire Baggins - Another reader comes forth! Thanks for reviewing! Frodo has such a good heart, it's hard for him to believe that someone would have such malice in his heart as Lotho does. I'm 36 years old, and I still don't understand how people as nasty as that can survive in the world. Lotho has more stuff up his sleeve, some of it subtle, some less so. I've got plans for that unruly tweener, mark me!  
  
GamgeeFest - Being sick is a pain, except for people waiting on you. Unless you're in the hospital. Those people will wake you up to give you a sleeping pill! Lotho will mellow out a little for a while, but eventually he will pull something that will have a less than pleasant result, even for himself! Merry and Saradoc won't be having a very long visit, but Merry's presence was just the medicine Frodo needed.  
  
LotRseer3350 - Lotho is mostly fixated on Frodo right now, but Sam will be part of a later confrontation.   
  
Midgette - Guilty! I haven't read any Harry Potter books yet. Eventually I probably will. The concept and characters are so charming and imaginative! Being kind - hearted is a two - edged sword. It will make a person stronger in some ways and weaker in others. Lotho doesn't understand that particular character trait and sees it as little more than something to exploit. How sad for him!  
  
Endymion2 - Poor Sam. As much as he wanted to stay by Frodo's side, exhaustion overwhelmed the poor lad and he let Bilbo send him off to sleep. His devotion to Frodo is just in its infancy, as you said. Someday, he will go far beyond average endurance to watch over Frodo. We will see Lotho again in this chapter. His curiosity is getting the better of him, and he wants news of his young cousin. Specifically, he wants to know if Frodo has been packed off to Buckland yet. How better to get the word than to see for oneself?   
  
Bookworm2000 - Sam's got to figure that anyone Frodo speaks highly of is a good hobbit indeed, therefore his respect and liking for Merry is instant. Lotho isn't done yet. Look for something close to subtlety in the next couple of chapters, followed by a more obvious overture that doesn't lead where he hopes it will!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - It was too bad Sam wasn't on hand when Frodo woke up feeling better. He'll get the good news soon enough, though! Saradoc gave Bilbo just the encouragement he needed.   
  
Peony - Thanks for your kind words regarding the dialogue. For some reason I just love to write conversations between the characters. I guess it sort of allows them to tell the story themselves. Frodo's fever did cause him to have a vivid flashback, and he will have more disturbing memories later on.  
  
TTTurtle - Yes, I did wonder if you were still out there somewhere! For a while ff.net's filter was messed up and it was impossible to see the updates amidst a sea of Mary Sues. The idea for sliding down a snowy hill - and falling through the ice, for that matter, came from the movie "It's a Wonderful Life." George Bailey's little brother was doing that with a few of his friends. I never tried it myself, having a sled on hand for such occasions, but it worked in the movie!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 13 - Visitors  
  
~*~Bag End, morning~*~  
  
"Easy now," Bilbo cautioned as Frodo placed his feet on the floor and pushed himself up on wobbly legs to stand unassisted. He was glad the dizziness had passed, allowing him to remain upright without the sensation of the room spinning around him. The weakness that followed the worst of his illness was the thing that frustrated him now, as he reached out and grasped the bedpost to steady himself.   
  
Frodo sighed as he leaned against the sturdy bedpost. "I think I've forgotten how to walk, Uncle."   
  
"You may be unsteady for a day or two, but it will pass," Bilbo assured the tween. "Until then, I won't allow you to overdo it, mind you."   
  
"Point taken," Frodo replied as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "It would be so nice just to feel normal again, though. It's been a long time since I've been ill enough to require as much care and convalescence as I have recently."   
  
Bilbo seated himself next to Frodo and draped an arm around his shoulders. "And I hope with all my heart that you must never endure such a thing again, dear boy," Bilbo said as he rose to his feet. "Shall we get you to that nice warm bath you told me you craved so desperately this morning?" He held out a hand for Frodo to use for support.   
  
Frodo nodded and attempted the standing maneuver again, this time with more success. He did lean on Bilbo as he took slow, careful steps across the room. By the time they reached the washroom, Frodo was shaking from the effort and he sank down gratefully onto a wooden bench near the tub.   
  
"There is plenty of hot water in the tub, and more where that came from if a long soak is what you feel inclined toward," Bilbo suggested. "Should you need anything of the sort, just grab that bell and ring it good and loud." Bilbo pointed to a brass bell with a long tapered handle. Frodo rang it experimentally, and the sound carried nicely. "Can you manage from here?"  
  
"I think so," Frodo answered. Bilbo left him to his task, and Frodo pulled his nightshirt over his head without even bothering with the buttons. He lowered himself into the steaming bath, and decided it was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt.   
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo let the dish towel fall to the tabletop as he padded to the door. Who was ringing the bell now? With Frodo on the way to recovery and Merry and Saradoc out for a stroll, he was finally catching up on tasks that had been brushed aside as he had watched over the ailing tweenager. Now the dratted bell was ringing again, and his efforts were being disrupted.   
  
Bilbo's eyes widened in surprise as he beheld the visitor, the very last person he would have expected to see on his doorstep, or cared to see for that matter.   
  
"Good morning," Lotho said pleasantly, seeming to ignore Bilbo's expression. "I've heard my cousin has been ill as a result of his misadventure at the pond, and I've come by to inquire about him." Not that it pained him at all that Frodo had been stricken, but if he made nice with everyone, perhaps they would relax their vigilance sooner or later, and he would be able to get near enough to Frodo to have a private discussion with him.  
  
Bilbo recovered from his initial shock and eyed Lotho suspiciously. "You say you've come to see how Frodo is faring?" Bilbo repeated Lotho's words to make sure he'd heard the lad correctly.  
  
"Just as I said," Lotho replied. "I was passing by, so I stopped."  
  
Bilbo played the mannerly host, quite against his better judgment. "Do come in, won't you?" The smile was polite and the tone neutral. It was a matter of saying the exact opposite of what he was thinking, and Bilbo hoped the visit would be brief. If Lotho behaved anything but properly, Bilbo would toss him out with his own two hands.  
  
Lotho stepped into the smial, schooling his features into an expression of confident ease. "Where is Frodo, if I may ask?" He looked around him as if to find some evidence that his cousin still remained at Bag End and had not been packed off to Buckland where he came from.   
  
"Frodo is in the bath at the moment." Bilbo declared, offering Lotho a chair in the parlor. "He has indeed been quite ill, but he's on the mend now."   
  
"Quite a harrowing event, wasn't it?" Lotho said of Frodo's dunking in the frigid pond. "It took four of us to pull him out of the water, as the ice kept breaking around him every time he moved." He smiled, knowing he had just driven home the fact that he himself had contributed to averting disaster that day.   
  
Bilbo fought to keep from grimacing as he noted that Lotho had indeed helped pull Frodo to safety. It was a bitter draught to drink, but Bilbo knew he owed Lotho a measure of gratitude for his role in the rescue. "Yes, it was quite frightening for those of us who care for Frodo." He eyed Lotho sharply. "I owe you my thanks for assisting."  
  
Trust Bilbo to find a way around showing genuine gratitude, Lotho thought smugly. It was one thing to admit to owing someone one's thanks, and another to actually thank them. Still, what had he expected? "I couldn't very well stand by while my cousin was in peril, now could I?" Lotho raised an eyebrow as he watched Bilbo's expression.   
  
"Hmph," Bilbo grunted. "One would certainly hope not," he stated flatly.   
  
"Sad thing, such a terrible accident," Lotho commented as if discussing the weather. "Surely Frodo's family in Buckland are worried about him," he suggested, fishing for information. Had Frodo's Buckland relatives begun to feel that Bilbo was not a fit guardian, perhaps? Would they appear and whisk Frodo back to Brandy Hall, thereby solving Lotho's problem for him?  
  
The front door opened again as Merry and Saradoc returned from their walk. Bilbo gestured toward them and told Lotho, "Here they are, if you'd like to inquire of them."   
  
Saradoc looked quizzically at Bilbo for a moment, wondering what in the Shire Lotho Sackville - Baggins was doing in Bag End's parlor.   
  
"Lotho has come by to inquire as to Frodo's condition," Bilbo informed the Brandybucks. Merry crossed his arms over his chest and adopted a stern expression. Mistrust was written all over his face as he regarded the tween.   
  
"Frodo is doing much better," Saradoc said, throwing Merry a warning glance. There was no sense in causing a stir, especially when they hadn't been present at the start of the conversation. "He will recover fully, I believe."  
  
"I'm glad to hear it," Lotho said, still smiling. "You must miss him terribly at Brandy Hall."  
  
"His absence is truly our loss," Saradoc said sensing the probing nature of the question. "However, I believe he will thrive here in Hobbiton."   
  
"You don't worry, after accidents such as his fall through the ice?" If mild probing didn't bring forth a good answer, there was no reason not to be more direct, Lotho decided.  
  
"There is ice in Buckland as well, lad," Saradoc responded. "The only way Frodo could be completely safe from all harm would be to shut himself in his room and never emerge. Whether here or in Buckland, he would be unlikely to do so."   
  
So they weren't getting the impression that Bilbo couldn't keep Frodo safe. Blast! Lotho felt his frustration surge within him. It looked rather unlikely that Frodo would be hauled back to Buckland on the premise that his care and supervision in Hobbiton were inadequate. Lotho had the sensation of being right back where he started. If all other efforts failed, there would be nothing to do now but try to persuade his cousin to voluntarily return to Brandy Hall.   
  
"I regret that I must be going so soon, but I am expected at home," Lotho said, his voice as calm as his thoughts were chaotic. "Please tell Frodo I stopped by, won't you?"  
  
"I shall indeed," Bilbo promised, nodding curtly as he escorted Lotho to the door. "Please give our regards to your mother and father."  
  
Another veiled barb, as Lotho knew precisely in what regard Bilbo held his parents. "I'll be sure to do that," he remarked as he bade everyone farewell and disappeared down the path.   
  
Bilbo closed the door, allowing his expression to reveal his true feelings of the moment. "That was a lovely little exchange, was it not?" he growled as Merry plopped down into a chair.   
  
"Why was he asking all those questions about Frodo?" Merry looked at Bilbo quizzically.   
  
"I don't know, lad, but I tend to doubt it was out of a genuine concern for his well - being. The Sackville - Bagginses are typically only concerned with themselves." Bilbo looked down the hall when he heard the sound of soft footfalls.   
  
"Who was that, Uncle?" Frodo asked as he stood in the hallway, dressed in clean breeches and shirt, his hair still damp from the bath.   
  
"Frodo, lad, why didn't you ring for one of us?" Bilbo berated kindly as he made his way down the hall to lend support to the still shaky youth. "You're just beginning to recover and you mustn't overdo it."   
  
Frodo leaned on Bilbo slightly as he made his way to the parlor. He felt a little stronger than he had earlier, and he suspected the irritating weakness would pass quickly. "I heard you talking to someone," Frodo prodded again, not willing to be put off easily.   
  
"Lotho was here, of all people," Bilbo admitted. "He was asking how you were faring."  
  
"Lotho?" Frodo was rather surprised by the news. "I'd not thought he would concern himself further," he admitted.   
  
"Well he certainly has, it would seem." Bilbo was quite annoyed with all the questions Lotho had asked and the things he had implied.   
  
"Put him out of your mind, Bilbo," Saradoc said, trying to brighten the mood. "There are far more important things for all of us to consider, such as getting a proper meal into a certain tween." He looked pointedly at Frodo, who did indeed look a little thinner than usual.   
  
Frodo grinned and Merry laughed outright. "You are starting to look rather like one of Farmer Maggot's scarecrows, Frodo." Frodo faked a hurt look at Merry while Bilbo settled him in a comfy armchair.   
  
"A good hot meal would do us all a bit of good," Bilbo admitted as he made his way to the kitchen. "As long as we've no more unpleasant distractions, it should be easily accomplished as well."  
  
The bell rang again, almost in answer to Bilbo's words and he groaned audibly. "Would someone please get the door?"  
  
Merry leapt up instantly, afraid that Frodo would get up instead. He wanted his cousin to conserve his strength until it had returned in full. "I've got it, Uncle Bilbo," Merry called, and opened the door.   
  
This time the visitor was a welcome sight, in the form of Samwise Gamgee. He carried a basket in his hands, and small wisps of steam rose from it through the chilly morning air. "Hullo, Mr. Merry. Mum sent me over with some fresh baked muffins, and she said she wants news of Mr. Frodo in return."   
  
Merry grinned as Sam stepped through the door into the parlor. "Frodo is doing well. See for yourself." He pointed across the room, where Frodo sat in the armchair, looking pale and tired, but much better than he had in days.   
  
"Good morning, Sam," Frodo said, and Sam almost dropped the basket as he hurried across the room to his friend.   
  
"Mr. Frodo! You're all right!" Sam remembered the muffins suddenly and held the basket out to Frodo. "You can have the first one, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo smiled as he chose a muffin from the basket. It smelled wonderful and it tasted even better. "Thank you, Sam. They're delicious."   
  
"What's all the ruckus out there?" Bilbo called. As he emerged from the kitchen, a smile lit up his features. "Not a ruckus, but a young Gamgee, I see," he said, walking over to give Sam a friendly pat on the back. "Are those some of your mother's famous muffins?"  
  
"Yes sir," Sam said and handed the basket to Bilbo. "She said to make sure you got them and to bring back news about Mr. Frodo." Sam glanced across the room again. "And it's good news too!"  
  
"It surely is, Samwise." Bilbo took Sam's coat and hung it up. "You're just in time for breakfast, lad. We've a crowd already, so one more is no trouble."   
  
"Thank you, sir," Sam said politely as he joined the hobbits in the parlor. Within a few minutes, a lively conversation was in progress, with Merry telling Frodo the latest gossip and events at Brandy Hall, and Sam listening in amusement.  
  
Saradoc left the young hobbits to themselves and joined Bilbo in the kitchen. "Nothing like the laughter of the young to warm and brighten a place," he said as he poured himself a cup of tea.   
  
"I don't know how I managed to get on without it, Sara," Bilbo said, thinking of Bag End before Frodo's arrival. "The peace and quiet I so treasured once I don't miss as I thought I might," he elaborated. "The quiet moments are still there, of course, but Frodo has brought a spark of something new to Bag End. I can no longer imagine not hearing his laughter from the next room."   
  
"I know what you mean," Saradoc said fondly, thinking of Merry. "The young ones will tax your patience and pull at your heart, and you'll do just about anything to make sure you don't miss a moment of it. You and Frodo will do fine together, Bilbo. I've no doubts anymore." He looked at Bilbo thoughtfully. "However, if you need any advice regarding the care and keeping of a tweenage lad, Esmie and I are at your service of course."  
  
"I'll remember that," Bilbo said as he raised his teacup in acknowledgement.   
  
~*~ To be continued~*~ 


	14. Making Assumptions

LotRseer3350 - Ahh, the unexpected! The more unexpected, the better, eh? Lotho will be plotting some nastiness indeed, after taking one more try at something more subtle.  
  
FrodoBaggins87 - There was no way I could let Lotho get to Frodo while he was sick. Too many friends and family members in the way! I tried, but they just kept interfering! To answer your question about my other stories, "In Safekeeping" is rated R mostly for a bit of violence and for themes. There is a slash aspect to the story, in that Frodo's aggressive admirer is another male. "The Way of Vengeance" got the R rating for the same reasons, and probably deserved it more than "In Safekeeping." After reading more of the R rated fics, here, I have contemplated changing them to PG-13, since they really aren't as nasty as I'd originally thought!   
  
Amelia Rose - Frodo's much more himself now that his nasty fever is gone. Lotho will have to try new tactics if he wants to get Frodo to trust him at all.   
  
TTTurtle - Lotho has no idea of what Frodo has been through so far, so he doesn't know what he's dealing with. There's some angstiness ahead, certainly, and not just for Frodo! I've seen the new pictures from RotK, and I think I know the one you mean. I know I'll be sitting in the theater with tears running down my face!  
  
Aratlithiel - Sam won't be angry with you for stealing a muffin, as long as you're nice to Frodo! Lotho won't be giving up just yet, although he will be getting more desperate as Forelithe draws nearer. Frodo is feeling much better now, to the relief of everyone at Bag End.  
  
Pebbles - Thanks for your kind words! Writing stories is sustaining me until the release of the next movie too. At least the extended DVD of TTT will be available in November! Frodo is trusting and sweet, but Bilbo is older and much more shrewd. Because he's so good - natured, Frodo is having to learn the hard way about who he can trust.  
  
Jules6 - I'm glad you're enjoying this fic! I've had a lot of fun writing and posting it!  
  
Shirebound - Bilbo was only as courteous to Lotho as he was strictly required to be, wasn't he? Frodo will feel some apprehension regarding his cousin as the story continues, but it's easy to develop a false sense of security if one isn't being noticeably threatened!  
  
Endymion2 - Lotho's hopes have been dashed thus far. Saradoc is backing Bilbo 100 percent, now that he has agreed to Frodo's staying at Bag End. You want to see what else Lotho has up his sleeve? Read on!   
  
Bookworm2000 - Lotho's subtle methods are no less mean - spirited than his overt actions. He hides a sneer behind a smile, that's certain. Merry's making a smaller appearance in this story, but you'll see him again before it's over! It was fun having Frodo, Sam and Merry all meet in one place as young hobbits.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Time for Lotho to try getting into Frodo's head? He's going to work on that in this chapter. Anytime Bilbo is around, you can bet Lotho will be minding himself. Right now, his plan is to carefully get Frodo to relax around him.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Author's note - I'm taking a little vacation to the Florida Keys pretty soon. I'll be gone from Aug. 28 to Sep. 4. Here's the plan. I'll upload chapter 15 before I leave, and chapter 16 the evening of Sep 4 when I return. Sorry for the one week gap that will be coming up, but the lure of sea, sand and sun is just impossible to resist! And now, an opportunistic Lotho gives the subtle approach one last try.  
  
MBradford   
  
(Wastin' away again in Margaritaville!)  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
Chapter 14 - Making Assumptions  
  
~*~Three days later~*~  
  
Frodo hugged Merry as Saradoc readied the cart for the ride back to Brandy Hall. "I'm sorry you have to leave so soon, Mer," he said. "But Forelithe is only a few months away, so we'll see each other again soon."  
  
Merry nodded. "You stay well until then," he admonished. "And no more accidents, please?"   
  
Frodo laughed. "I'll try Mer. You take care of yourself too."  
  
Merry hopped up into the cart beside his father, and they started for home.   
  
"It was so good to see them again," Frodo remarked as he and Bilbo stood waving at the departing pair. "Did I really call out for Merry when I was ill?" Frodo couldn't remember being delirious with fever and shouting for the best friend he had known at that point in his life.  
  
"You certainly did," Bilbo answered. "It was then that I sent for them, thinking it might do you some good to see them." His tone and expression were pensive as he spoke.  
  
Frodo looked at Bilbo and gave him a knowing smile. "I think it was good for you too, if I'm not mistaken." Perhaps Bilbo had needed some reassurance as well, and who better to give it than the Master of Buckland?  
  
"You see right through me as though I were naught but glass, my boy," Bilbo said with a laugh and a shake of his head. "I may have the advantage of years, but Saradoc has the advantage of experience. He knows well already the things I am only now learning about young hobbits." His eyes danced and a wry grin formed on his face. "It has been a great while since I was one of them."  
  
"Did he tell you everything would be fine and not to worry about how you were doing as the guardian of a tweenager?" Frodo certainly hoped so. It would be awful if Bilbo blamed himself for anything that had happened.   
  
"He did indeed, and I shall take his words to heart," Bilbo promised. "Although I am sorely tempted to make certain I never let you out of my sight again." Bilbo looked at Frodo with the expression of a mother bear watching over her cub.   
  
Frodo gave Bilbo his best crestfallen look. "Does that mean I'll not be allowed to go for a walk today?" Frodo's strength had returned almost completely in the past few days, and he desperately wanted to breathe the fresh, if chilly air.   
  
"No, Frodo, I realize that I cannot smother you constantly. If you wish to stretch your legs some, you certainly may." Bilbo favored Frodo with a serious look. "But be careful, and please steer clear of Lotho if you can. I simply cannot bring myself to trust him."  
  
"I promise I'll try," Frodo said evenly. He himself was none too sure of Lotho's disposition toward him, but should they meet unexpectedly, he didn't want to be rude.   
  
"Are you off on your way, then?" Bilbo quickly scanned Frodo's attire to make sure the lad had dressed warmly.   
  
"If you don't mind it, I think I will walk for a while, just into town and back." Frodo looked up the path with interest, wondering what was going on in Hobbiton that bright winter morning. "Are there any errands you wish completed?"  
  
"Come to think of it, I do have one of Master Goodbody's books regarding herbs. If you would take it back to him, I would be grateful." Frodo nodded and Bilbo stepped inside to retrieve the book. He emerged again a moment later and handed the small leather bound volume of herbal cures to Frodo.   
  
"Thank you, Uncle," Frodo called as he closed the gate behind him. "I won't be long, I promise!" He waved and walked away down the path, breathing the fresh air into his now clear lungs.   
  
He was glad to see that the snow was melted off the path. A walk was certainly more enjoyable without sliding this way and that on cold snow and ice. He tried to remember Bilbo's past comments on the winters in Hobbiton and how long and cold they usually were. He seemed to recall Bilbo saying that winters were usually mild, and that spring often appeared to arrive suddenly. Frodo always noted the first day the sun felt warm on his face and the ground began to send tender green shoots of grass up among the brown ones.   
  
The stone bridge over the mill pond was coming up ahead of him and Frodo paused to pick up a semi - flat stone to skip across the water. Much of the ice had cleared and a fair expanse of the pond's surface stretched out from the bridge to the edge of the water. At the highest point of the curved structure he paused and sent the stone flying just so. It struck the pond and leapt back into the air again, skipping four times before it finally sank to join the many others at the bottom. Four times! He would have to tell Merry in his next letter. Neither of them had managed a higher count yet, and the race was on to see who would be the first to make it five.   
  
A farmer drove past in his cart, and Frodo waved cheerfully to him. The middle - aged hobbit looked a little surprised at first, but returned the wave in a friendly fashion. Frodo grinned to himself. He really was beginning to like Hobbiton, and the slower, calmer pace of life seemed to suit him. The bustle and noise of Brandy Hall were in stark contrast to the peaceful, simple way of life that seemed to prevail among the hobbits here.   
  
Before long, he stood at the door of the Goodbodys' home, the book in hand. Frodo rang the bell and waited. Master Goodbody himself opened the door, and he was pleasantly surprised to see his former patient out and about.   
  
"Well, young Master Baggins, you look a sight better than you did the last time we met, if I may say so," Goodbody said with his eyes twinkling. "That was a rather nasty fever you picked up, lad."  
  
Frodo nodded in agreement. "Thank you for your help, Master Goodbody. I'm as good as new, thanks to you and Uncle Bilbo." He held out the book. "Uncle Bilbo asked me to return your book."  
  
"Ahh. I hope he found it useful," Goodbody said as he accepted the book from Frodo. "It's never a bad thing to know how to combine a few common herbs to relieve one's maladies."   
  
"Does this mean that every time I have a headache, Uncle Bilbo will produce some bitter concoction for me to drink?" Frodo made a face and laughed as Master Goodbody chuckled.   
  
"Like as not it does, lad. I'd stay healthy were I in your position." The healer patted Frodo's shoulder reassuringly. "Old Bilbo will make himself a good guardian given time."  
  
Frodo smiled fondly. "He already has, Master Goodbody." Frodo said good day to the healer and made his way back toward Bag End. When he returned, he planned to help Bilbo prepare a little something for elevenses, when Sam was to appear to begin his studies. The Gaffer had agreed to allow Bilbo and Frodo to tutor his youngest son, on the condition that when spring arrived Sam must not neglect his duties in the slightest, but make time to learn his letters when his chores were done.   
  
"Ho, there, Mad Baggins!" A voice broke through Frodo's thoughts. He frowned and turned to see a group of tweens hanging about by the bridge. He didn't know any of their names, but they obviously knew his.   
  
One of the boys punched the maker of the comment in the arm. "Mad Baggins the Second, you mean," he corrected.   
  
Frodo ignored them as he passed by. Living at Brandy Hall had taught him how to deal with small - minded folk such as these, and he did his best to turn a deaf ear to their taunting.   
  
The boys continued to laugh and point at Frodo. "Old Mad Baggins has got himself a fine young companion now, hasn't he?" one of them crowed loudly. "Got himself a handsome young lad to help occupy his time," another said suggestively, and Frodo felt his face redden despite his best efforts. Another voice called out, directly to him this time, as if in challenge. "Nice and cozy at Bag End, isn't it, Baggins? Who's takin' care of who under the Hill?"   
  
Frodo spun around, intent upon the acerbic reply that was on the tip of his tongue. It died unspoken as he saw Lotho walking up behind the group of cat - callers, his steps sure and his posture challenging.   
  
"I'll have you know that's my cousin you're talking to, Merlo," Lotho said casually as he favored the other tween with a look of disdain. "I advise you to mind your tongue, unless you'd like me to mind it for you, that is."   
  
Lotho stood a little taller and broader than the other tweens gathered by the bridge, and he glared down at them in a manner that promised trouble if they didn't take heed. The three lads looked at each other and backed away, walking down the road in the opposite direction.   
  
Lotho strode up to Frodo and thumped him on the back like an old friend. "They ought not to show their ignorance so thoroughly to their betters," he said lightly. "It's one thing to believe something of another person, but quite another to voice it publicly."  
  
"And just what is it they believe of me?" Frodo said, a little disturbed by the taunts.   
  
Lotho gave his best embarrassed smile, as if he were about to discuss something he would rather not. "It was bound to come about, Frodo." He sighed. "An old, eccentric bachelor like Bilbo Baggins, taking in a good - looking young lad like yourself - " he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. "Some folk immediately begin to imagine certain things, if you understand me."  
  
Frodo's face was burning as he listened to what Lotho was telling him. "Surely you don't mean - " he gasped in shock. "They don't think that I - that we - " He struggled to regain his composure. "That's absurd!"  
  
"Oh, you and I know that very well, cousin," Lotho said soothingly. "But I'm afraid that you will have to get used to such things if you're to stay here in Hobbiton." He gestured around them. "Folk here have little else to do than talk about each other, whether they know the truth of matters or not. Idle tongue - wagging, you know."   
  
Frodo looked at the ground, speechless. He had never dreamed that anyone would make such insinuations about his relationship with Bilbo. His heart clenched in his chest as he wondered if Bilbo knew what they were saying. He tried to show some measure of confidence when he spoke again.  
  
"Thank you for what you said to them," Frodo said, a little sadly. "I fear I was about to say something myself, which I might have regretted later."   
  
"Not to worry, cousin." Lotho replied. "We need not concern ourselves with them or their opinions. Besides, what goes on under the Hill isn't their business regardless."   
  
Frodo's head snapped up and he blurted, "Nothing's going on. Nothing like what they were suggesting, at any rate."   
  
"Now, now, Frodo. There's no need to let it upset you so." Lotho winked. "My advice is to be careful how vehemently you deny it, though. They'll only think you're trying to hide something."   
  
Frodo tried to form a reply and failed. He stood and gaped as Lotho bade him farewell and strode away. Elbereth! Was he to endure such things on a daily basis here? When he walked through town would everyone be smiling politely and whispering behind their hands once he had passed by? And Bilbo! All the elderly gentlehobbit had done was to take in a lad who needed a home, a real home where Frodo felt wanted and comfortable.   
  
Frodo turned and walked swiftly toward Bag End, his thoughts careening off one another chaotically. He reached the door and pulled it open, shutting it again behind him a little more forcefully than he had intended. Bilbo looked up from his book with a startled expression.   
  
"Just because a door has good, strong hinges is no reason to put them to the test," he said gently, by way of chiding Frodo for his abrupt entry.   
  
"Sorry, Uncle," Frodo said simply, turning away to keep Bilbo from seeing the pain and anger in his eyes. He hung his coat on a peg and plopped down into a chair, facing the hearth. He stared vacantly at the flames, his mouth set in a grim line.   
  
Although Bilbo couldn't see Frodo's expression from where he was sitting, he could tell something was wrong by the boy's posture. The slump of Frodo's shoulders spoke volumes to him and he laid the book down on the table beside him.   
  
"Frodo, lad? Is there something on your mind?" He prompted gently. He knew from experience how to get the tween to open up, even when Frodo would rather keep his own counsel. When Frodo didn't answer, Bilbo forged on. "It's not like you to burst upon a room like a thunderclap."  
  
"I'm sorry, Uncle. Please forgive me," Frodo said numbly, still staring into the fire.   
  
"Unless I miss my guess, something unpleasant has happened, else you wouldn't be looking so downcast." Bilbo allowed his tone to become the brisk one that brooked no arguments. "You promised, Frodo. No more holding back things that trouble you."  
  
It was true, Frodo had promised Bilbo that he would speak his mind, rather than allowing his troubles to go unsolved. The results of holding back had never been positive, he reminded himself grimly.   
  
"Some lads were hanging about the mill pond bridge, Uncle. They - they said some things," he stammered, not knowing how to approach the matter, embarrassed anew by the memory of the comments. "Things about you and me, and - and your purpose for taking me in." He looked down as he continued. "I'd rather not repeat them."  
  
"Then don't," Bilbo said firmly. "I think I know what you're getting at, Frodo, and I don't blame you for being angry." He rose from his chair and crossed the room, coming to stand behind Frodo and rest his hands on the lad's shoulders. "I don't blame you for feeling hurt, or even embarrassed."   
  
Frodo looked up, his gaze dark and brooding. "I can't help it, Uncle. It's horrible that they would say such things, or even believe them. It's so unfair to you, especially."   
  
"Many things in life are unfair, Frodo, as I'm sure you're well aware," Bilbo counseled. "It doesn't matter to me what anyone says. I've grown quite accustomed to being the subject of rumor and even scorn among certain of Hobbiton's residents. It makes no difference to me, what anyone says of me, as I know the truth."  
  
"That's what Lotho said," Frodo muttered, and immediately regretted it for the look on Bilbo's face.   
  
"Lotho again?" He frowned. "I thought you were going to stay away from him."  
  
Frodo looked both abashed and confused. "I planned to, but he wandered by and he stopped the others from taunting me. He offered me some 'friendly advice.'"  
  
"And just what, specifically did Lotho say, lad?" Bilbo listened with interest. Any advice Lotho had given would have to be immediately countered by better.   
  
Frodo took a breath before speaking. "He said that if I am to stay here in Hobbiton, I will have to get used to it. He said that people are bound to think - to think that certain things are going on."  
  
"Did he, now?" Bilbo's glower lightened just a bit. "He was wrong on both counts, Frodo. One never has to grow accustomed to such a thing, but perhaps one does have to take it with a grain of salt." He patted Frodo's shoulder. "One must decide how much one will let such things affect him."   
  
Bilbo's frown returned as he addressed the rest of Lotho's statement. "And as to people being bound to think perverse and improper thoughts regarding the two of us, I would say those who would do so are few in number. The folk of Hobbiton are, by and large, decent and hard - working. They enjoy a simple life, and believe the best of one another for the most part."  
  
Frodo nodded. "So you think I should not let such things trouble me, and that things are not so dire as Lotho made them to be?"   
  
"That is exactly what I think, Frodo lad," Bilbo said, adopting the crisp tone once again. "If you hold your head up and laugh at their foolishness, they will seem all the more foolish as a result." He grinned disarmingly. "I know that the heart of a dragon beats within you, lad. I've seen it's tenacity and resilience for myself, and I know that you will overcome such things with ease, if you put your mind to it."  
  
Frodo smiled in spite of himself. Bilbo always had a way of gently pushing him to rise to the occasion, usually stating that Frodo simply would not be able to do aught else by nature. "Uncle, how do you always know the right things to say?" Frodo said, relieved by Bilbo's assurances.   
  
"That is my own secret power, and I shall never tell," Bilbo said dramatically, unable to resist teasing the tween.   
  
Frodo allowed Bilbo to pull him up from his chair and they made their way into the kitchen. "If people were to know what goes on here at Bag End, I think they would all be sorry they don't live here too," Frodo said thoughtfully as he poured a cup of tea.   
  
~*~  
  
Lotho was pleased with himself. Not only had he managed to make himself look like Frodo's protective elder cousin, he had planted a seed of doubt in the lad's mind. The look on Frodo's face when Lotho had told him people were going to make certain assumptions had been just what he had hoped for.   
  
Frodo had looked positively stricken, as if the whole of Middle Earth were falling down around him. Lotho could imagine Frodo hiding in shame under the Hill, declining invitations and isolating himself because of his perceived status as the plaything of a perverse old hobbit. Instead of berating those lads by the bridge, Lotho reflected, he should have thanked them for helping him.   
  
A few more discussions like that, and that annoying little interloper should be running back to Buckland in no time! Lotho was in an inordinately cheerful mood for the remainder of the day.   
  
~*~ To be continued~*~ 


	15. Disaster

Bookworm2000 - Almost worse than the shovel incident? Maybe from a psychological standpoint!   
  
Midgette - It is indeed 5:00 somewhere! If you remember what you wanted to say about chapter 14, just squeeze it in someplace!  
  
Endymion2 - Those mouthy tweens were just hanging around by chance, and Lotho seized the opportunity to turn their comments into much more than they really were.   
  
GamgeeFest - Thanks for your comments on my previous stories. Lotho has absolutely no idea what he's dealing with here, and this chapter will make that very clear. Lotho is getting desperate as Springtime comes to the Shire.  
  
LotRseer3350 - Hobbits may not have jumped to such conclusions about Bilbo and Frodo, but you never know! Small communities can be breeding grounds for vicious gossip.   
  
Iorhael - Thanks for trying to read my story with all the slow internet trouble. Hopefully it will start behaving better for you.  
  
Amelia Rose - Lotho is foiled again, thanks to Bilbo's experience and hobbit sense. Those tweens deserved to get their mouths washed out for making such insinuations about the gents at Bag End!  
  
LittleMiss2 - Thanks for stopping by! I see you've at least made it to chapter 6, and I hope you've kept reading!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
And now, my friends, Lotho is about to get in deeper than he ever planned - literally!   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 15 - Disaster   
  
~*~  
  
Spring did indeed seem to come early to the Westfarthing, and the sun had melted away all traces of the winter, leaving early flowers in their place. Frodo had followed Bilbo's advice and kept his chin up, refusing to heed the few crude comments made here and there, mostly by other tweens. Never once did he see a sly look pass between any of the adults or hear them speak a word of any rumors of impropriety at Bag End.   
  
Lotho, for his part, felt his frustration growing daily. Just when he thought he had given Frodo good reason to go away, the infuriating lad had somehow overcome his doubts and seemed more confident than ever in his surroundings. He didn't seem to care in what regard the people of Hobbiton held him or Bilbo, but blithely went on about his business, even seeming proud of old Bilbo and his eccentricities.   
  
Contact between Lotho and his cousin had been minimal for the last month or so. Lotho had made no overt gestures toward Frodo and had done little more than smile and wave when they happened to see each other in passing. All part of the plan, but a difficult thing for Lotho in his impatience to see Frodo as far away from Hobbiton as possible.   
  
Lotho grunted a terse reply as Ted Sandyman greeted him. Ted didn't seem to notice Lotho's dour mood, but went on as if all things were as they should be. "Want to go get an ale?" Ted prompted.   
  
"Sure, why not?" Lotho grumbled sourly. Maybe a few half pints would make him forget about Frodo for a short while.   
  
"Did you hear about Milo Proudfoot?" Ted gossiped as he tipped his tankard. "He had a few too many ales and got his foot stuck in a gopher hole on the way home. Warn't nobody around 'cause it was late, and he was still there at sunrise, trying to dig hisself out!"   
  
"Ummm, yeah. Funny," Lotho said distractedly. This time Ted did notice and he looked at Lotho questioningly.   
  
"Somethin' eatin' away at you, then?" He downed more ale. "You look like you've been whacked upside the head with a grumpy stick."  
  
"Leave off, Ted. I've got a right to be grumpy. Blasted cousins anyway," he groused as he lifted his tankard.   
  
"I thought you had your little problem mostly taken care of," Ted offered, wondering what had gone wrong this time. "Ain't he afraid that folk are thinkin' ill of him?"  
  
Right then, Lotho's little problem walked into the Ivy Bush, seated himself by the window and pulled a book out of his pack. Lotho looked on as Frodo smiled at the barmaid and ordered a snack and a half pint.   
  
"I had him going for a bit, I think, but somehow he just doesn't seem to care now," Lotho said, scowling. "I've got to get rid of him, and soon. It's going to be Forelithe in a short while, and then it will be too late. He'll settle in for good and live high on what should be my inheritance."   
  
Ted's stomach growled insistently, so he flagged the barmaid down and ordered a plate of steamed mushrooms. "Well, getting him hurt and sick didn't make them Brandybucks haul him off, and he don't seem to care whether folks 'round here approve of him or not. How else are you gonna take care of him?" Ted was never an imaginative sort, and he couldn't fathom what more Lotho could do about the situation.   
  
"I might have to just be more direct," Lotho said, contemplating. "I'll have to let him know in no uncertain terms that he's not welcome here." To do that, Lotho needed to get Frodo alone for a short while, but how?   
  
He popped one of the mushrooms in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. A sly grin spread across his face as he stared at the plate of mushrooms on the table. He had an idea.   
  
"Ted, you just play along here for a minute. If I say something, agree with me. Back me up." Ted nodded. Didn't he always? Lotho motioned to the barmaid again. He ordered a half pint and pointed in Frodo's direction.   
  
A few minutes later, just as Frodo was finishing his first ale, the barmaid appeared with another. "Compliments of Mr. Lotho," she said, and Frodo peered at Lotho curiously. Lotho lifted his tankard and smiled disarmingly, then gestured for Frodo to come and join him.   
  
Frodo felt apprehension rise within him, but he pushed it away. Lotho had been behaving himself lately and while he had not been overly friendly toward Frodo, he had not been unkind either. The mishaps seemed to have stopped as well. Perhaps the entire storm had finally blown over. Frodo rose and walked over to greet his cousin and the miller's son.   
  
"Good afternoon, Ted, Lotho," he nodded politely. "Thank you for the ale."  
  
"My pleasure, Frodo," Lotho replied, and gestured to the plate of mushrooms. "Try one, they're good. You do like mushrooms, don't you?"  
  
"Absolutely," Frodo said, and bit into a juicy mushroom appreciatively.  
  
"These are good," Lotho intoned, "but they aren't anything compared to the ones I found at Empty Row last week, right Ted?"   
  
Ted nodded. "Nowhere near as good."  
  
Empty Row was a hill where a couple of old smials had been left to slowly decay. It was a good hour's walk from Hobbiton proper, and sometimes youngsters who were a tad too young for the Green Dragon or the Ivy Bush would sneak off to the location to drink ale and sing songs, away from the prying eyes of their elders.   
  
Obviously, Frodo hadn't heard of the location. "Where's that?" he asked curiously. Mushroom hunting was fun, and perhaps he could surprise Bilbo with his finds.   
  
Lotho looked around conspiratorially, as if checking for eavesdroppers. "I'm only going to tell you because you're my cousin. I wouldn't share this information with just everyone." He asked Frodo to get paper and a quill for him, and Frodo retrieved the items from the small pack he was carrying. "Now most folk know where Empty Row is, but not everyone knows about the mushrooms. Our secret."   
  
Frodo nodded. Lotho drew a simple map, detailing landmarks to guide Frodo to the proper place. "You have to go pretty deep into the hill to find them, but it's worth the effort."   
  
"Thank you for sharing that information with me, Lotho," Frodo said with a smile. "I haven't been mushroom hunting in a long time."   
  
"It's been days since I've been, so there should be some nice ones by now," Lotho said, smiling back. He and Frodo chatted idly for a few more moments, then Frodo went back to his book and his snack. Lotho's glower had changed to a satisfied grin.   
  
Ted, on the other hand, looked confused. "Lotho, you know there ain't no mushrooms at Empty Row."  
  
"I know that and you know that, but Frodo has no clue," Lotho snickered.  
  
"So what now?" Ted asked, thoroughly intrigued by the workings of Lotho's devious mind.   
  
"He goes mushroom hunting, and I follow him." A nasty gleam settled in Lotho's eyes. "I'm going to explain things to him, Ted. We're going to reach an understanding, you might say."   
  
"Do you think he fell for it?" Ted wondered.   
  
"Oh, he fell for it all right. I'm certain. As soon as I finish my ale, I'm going to head for Empty Row. Unless I miss my guess, Frodo will be along shortly after." Lotho smirked. He had heard from his mother that Frodo had a weakness for mushrooms and had actually been caught raiding the farmers' mushroom beds in and around Buckland. He couldn't picture his sweet younger cousin pulling such a stunt, but you never could tell.  
  
"Thank you for your company, Ted, I feel better already," Lotho said as he rose and put a few coins on the table to pay for his share. "I'm off to take care of business," he sneered and stalked out of the inn.   
  
~*~Later that afternoon~*~  
  
Frodo hummed a tune as he walked, thinking what a perfect day it had been so far. Even Lotho had seemed pleasant, of all things. Maybe Frodo's older cousin had finally come to accept him. The thought of big, tasty mushrooms filled Frodo's mind as he followed the map Lotho had drawn for him. If he hurried, he would be home in time for tea with something good to add to supper.   
  
Bilbo had become more at ease with Frodo's wanderings, and didn't fret about him being out for the better part of a day as long as Frodo left word of when he expected to return.   
  
When no more accidents befell the lad, Bilbo had even given up on trying to prove Lotho to be at fault for the previous incidents. When the thaw had come, Halfred and Hamson had managed to retrieve the shovel from the pond. The only tale the shovel told was one of rusting away for several months underwater. Frodo had pleaded with his guardian to let matters lie, as they were in the past and dwelling on them wouldn't change them.   
  
Frodo had stopped briefly at Bag End to trade his book for a small candle and a tinderbox, which he tucked into his pack. He had slipped in unnoticed as Bilbo was working on something in his study. He hoped the candle would be enough to light his way in the old tunnels under the hill. The location wasn't far away now, perhaps a quarter mile.   
  
~*~   
  
Lotho peered out from behind the overgrown bushes on the hilltop, watching Frodo's progress from afar. He could see the distant form of his cousin on the road, nearing the hill where the old smials lay.   
  
He shifted from one foot to the other impatiently. He couldn't wait to sneak up on Frodo and corner him, then tell him exactly what he must do to avoid a very unpleasant time ahead. He disliked such base methods for their sheer commonness, but nothing else had done the job.   
  
"Come on, Frodo, I'm waiting," he whispered. "It's time we had a talk, you and I."  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
Frodo stood at the base of the hill, peering into the yawning mouth of the hole that led to the tunnels beyond. It was indeed very dark further inside and he paused to light the candle before stepping forward. He held the candle high to illuminate the walls and ceiling of the hole as root tendrils reached down to tangle in his hair.   
  
Moving deeper into the darkness, he searched the alcoves for the mushrooms Lotho had mentioned. The tunnels were cool and musty and he paused to examine the moss that was growing there. He hadn't seen any mushrooms yet, but Lotho had said he would have to go farther in and really look for them. He padded onward, deeper into the hillside.   
  
~*~  
  
Lotho smirked nastily as he emerged from his hiding place. "You're mine, little cousin," he breathed as he slowly entered the tunnel. He could see the faint glow of light up ahead as Frodo made progress before him. He would have to be careful not to let his quarry hear him, or to let Frodo reach the end of the tunnel and turn back before he could get there.   
  
He stepped quietly, watching the light become brighter as he neared his young cousin. He held his breath as he peered around a corner, and spied Frodo poking inquisitively into the corner of what had once been a room in the dwelling. Frodo stood with his back turned, oblivious to Lotho's approach.   
  
Lotho reached out with both hands and grabbed Frodo by the shoulders, spinning him around to pin him against the wall. Frodo gasped in surprise and dropped the candle, the flame dying as it hit the ground, plunging the tunnel and its occupants into inky darkness.   
  
"Make any discoveries, Frodo?" Lotho growled. "I've made some discoveries lately, and I don't like what I've found."   
  
Frodo was still suffering from the shock of being grabbed and thrown back against the wall. He found his voice with difficulty, and his words came out in a breathless stutter. "Lotho! Wh - what in the Shire are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm talking about you and how you've managed to get in the way." Lotho shook Frodo hard as he spoke. "Everything was going fine until you showed up."  
  
Frodo gripped Lotho's wrists and tried to pry the hands from his shoulders, to no avail. "Let go of me! What's got into you?" he asked incredulously.   
  
"I'm not going to sit back and let you rob me of my inheritance, Bucklander." Lotho winced as Frodo's foot connected with his shin, but he held on, slamming Frodo backward. "You'd better listen, and I mean good!"  
  
Frodo was getting angry. Lotho had obviously tricked him into going to the old smials, and for what purpose? To threaten him and thrash him? And what was that about an inheritance?  
  
"No, Lotho! You listen," Frodo ground out through clenched teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about, and you had better get your hands off me now."  
  
"Or what? You can't even see me in here. I can take you out easily if you try anything and you know it." Lotho leaned in closer to make sure Frodo didn't miss a word. "I don't know how you did it, but you got old Bilbo to adopt you and make you his heir."  
  
Frodo blinked. "But Bilbo hasn't adopted me, Lotho. He says I can stay at Bag End as long as I wish, but he's said nothing of formal adoption or making me his heir. Where did you get such a notion?"  
  
"I read it in the old codger's journal, you little twit." Lotho's grip on Frodo's shoulder's tightened painfully. "He intends to make it final at Forelithe, unless you decide you don't like it here and go back to Brandy Hall."  
  
Frodo gasped. Indignation flooded him as he peered into the darkness where his cousin stood before him. "How dare you! Bilbo's journal? His private writings?" Something dawned on the startled tween and he shuddered. "All the things that have happened - the pond - you were responsible, just as Uncle Bilbo thought!" A trickle of dust fell from the ceiling and Frodo could feel it tickle against his nose.  
  
"Candle wax is nice and slippery, isn't it cousin?" Lotho said, unable to resist gloating over his actions. "I should have let them pull you out themselves, provided they would have even succeeded." More dust fell, and a few small pebbles with it.  
  
"You beast!" Frodo shouted, trying to twist out of his cousin's grasp. The two grappled in the darkness, Lotho losing his grip on Frodo. Frodo managed to move away from the wall and into the center of the room before Lotho caught him again. Lotho held him fast this time and Frodo writhed desperately as more dirt and stones dropped onto them from above.  
  
"Since you getting hurt and sick didn't get your Brandybucks to come and claim you back, I had to resort to other measures," Lotho explained. "But you didn't take the bait, did you? You didn't feel ashamed to show your face for fear everyone was thinking you were more to Bilbo than his ward!"  
  
"I don't care what people supposedly think about matters at Bag End," Frodo shot back. "It isn't their business, and it isn't true, besides." A much larger chunk of the ceiling broke off and tumbled down on them, stopping the argument momentarily.   
  
"Maybe we should discuss this elsewhere," Frodo said looking up at the invisible ceiling above. "I don't think this place is safe."  
  
"Don't try to change the subject, little cousin," Lotho sneered. "You are going back to Buckland, and you are not becoming Bilbo's heir. Bag End will go to my family, not you. I'll take you back myself if I have to."   
  
"Do you think that's why I came to live with Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo's anger returned in a rush. "You judge me by your own poor example, Lotho," Frodo spat. "I came to live with Uncle Bilbo because he wanted me to. He didn't think Brandy Hall was the right place for me, and he offered to take me in. It was his idea entirely, and I said yes because I love him! I don't care that people think he's odd or mad. He isn't mad, and he's very intelligent, kind and brave! He's a better hobbit than you'll ever dream of being!"   
  
Frodo's words echoed eerily from the walls of the darkened tunnel, and there followed an ominous sound, a shifting of earth and rock somewhere in the hill above. Both tweens looked up at the same instant, and Lotho released his hold on Frodo as he tried to reckon where the exit was. An instant later, a great torrent of dirt and rock came down upon them, as the roof of the decrepit smial caved in.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~  
  
******* I know this is an awful place to leave you hanging for an entire week, and I didn't plan it this way, honestly! I'll post the next chapter on September 4, and I hope you'll all be there to read it!******** 


	16. Trapped

Amelia Rose - Sorry to trot off on vacation with that nasty cliffhanger! I didn't really plan for that chapter to be up when I left. What's happened to poor Frodo? Let's find out!  
  
Pebbles - Eeek, I hope you guys can forgive me for the gnarly cliffhangers. There were many margaritas, by the way. One for each of you!  
  
Bookworm2000 - Lotho is beginning to get a little of his Karma coming up against him. Too bad Frodo's caught up in it too.  
  
Endymion2 - "Don't talk to Lotho" would be really good advice for Frodo! How little Lotho knows of his cousin if he thinks he can intimidate Frodo into leaving! He's got his delusions, hasn't he?  
  
Iorhael - It was hard for me to leave the story there for such a long stretch too. Maybe Lotho is part orc!  
  
Shirebound - Only Ted knows where they are, and he doesn't know anything has happened yet!  
  
FrodoBaggins87 - Made it back, and I'm ready to get back to my story. Hope you guys will be too!  
  
Aratlithiel - Lotho could have chosen the kinder, gentler path. What happened? Bilbo knows what he's talking about when he tells Frodo not to listen to those narrow - minded people. You're absolutely right that Frodo has been through too much to let the likes of Lotho push him around. He's not gonna take it!  
  
LotRseer3350 - Here's that update I promised! What's gonna happen? You'll see!  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Dreadful of me to jump on a jet while those boys are trapped in that cave - in! Frodo is now fully aware of his cousin's nasty nature. There's no suspecting anymore. Yeah, that was a kind of short chapter. If I get the urge, I might try to lengthen it, but we'll see what falls out of my jet - lagged brain!  
  
Midgette - I left you guys hangin' didn't I? I'm back and I'll be doing my usual frequent updates again.  
  
QTPie2488 - I've been rushing you, haven't I? There will be a lot of discussion between Frodo and Lotho coming up, and I hope I have made it interesting.  
  
Aelfgifu - Thanks for your comments on chapter 12. I just have such a wonderful time working with Bilbo. He's got such a spark to him! Tossing Lotho's butt into the pond sounds just fine with me. I think Evil Merry did find me on my vacation. He pushed me off a rain - slicked curb last night and caused me to break my toe! Or was that Lotho?  
  
Camellia Gamgee - Took - As to Ted's importance, he is currently the only one who knows where those two boys are. Here's that long - awaited update!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 16 - Trapped  
  
When the dirt and rocks finally stopped raining down upon the two young hobbits, all was dark and silent for a few moments. Then, something moved, only a little at first, but with growing strength. Frodo struggled out from under the fallen chunks, moving them aside as well as he could with one hand. The other hand he kept close to his side in an attempt to keep the shoulder immobile. He was aware that he was injured, and his voice was tight with pain as he spoke.   
  
"Lotho? Lotho, can you hear me?" Frodo dragged himself forward, groping in the darkness until his hand touched fabric. He located Lotho's hand and pulled, but the tween was too heavy for him to move in such manner. The pulling and tugging brought Lotho back to consciousness and there was more scraping and rattling of small stones as he shifted.   
  
"What happened?" Lotho groaned hoarsely, pausing to cough as the dust continued to settle around him.   
  
"The roof caved in on us," Frodo said. "I think my shoulder is dislocated. Are you hurt?"   
  
As if that Bucklander cares, Lotho thought. He tried to move his legs and instantly wished he hadn't as pain ripped through him. "I think one of my legs is broken," he gasped.   
  
"It's too dark in here for me to tell how bad the cave - in was," Frodo said as he tried to see in the inky blackness that surrounded him. "I'm going to try to find my candle and tinderbox."  
  
"You'll never find them in here, it's too dark," Lotho said pessimistically. "Besides, they're probably under a pile of rocks."  
  
"They may be, but I'm going to try just the same," Frodo answered obstinately. He crawled slowly, supporting himself on his good arm, until he reached out and touched the wall of the small cavern. He worked his way along the wall, remembering that he had been in the corner of the room when he had dropped the candle.   
  
Moments passed tensely, with no sound but that of Frodo sweeping away at the dirt and stones with his fingers. "I've got it!" he said excitedly as he grasped the candle. His tinderbox would be in the pocket of his pack where he had stowed it after lighting the candle on his way in. "My pack should be around here somewhere," he said, drawing in a harsh breath and cursing as he accidentally moved his injured arm.  
  
"I didn't know you knew words like that, Cousin," Lotho's voice rose from across the room.   
  
"You'd be surprised at what I know," Frodo shot back, reaching forward in the blackness. His fingers brushed and then closed around the strap of his pack and he fumbled inside for the tinderbox. Seconds later, light flared in the confined space, and Frodo could see for the first time the extent of the damage.   
  
"This isn't good," he remarked as he gazed around. The entrance to the chamber was completely blocked with dirt and stone, and there was no other egress from the room. No holes had opened in the roof to allow light or air to enter. Frodo drew what encouragement he could from the fact that the worst of the rock fall had occurred a short distance from where they had been standing, rather than directly above them. If they had been fully in the path of the falling material, far worse injuries could have easily been the result.   
  
Frodo realized the candle was consuming precious oxygen, and he knew he would have to put it out. He would do so, but not until he had seen to his and his cousin's injuries. He moved carefully back to where Lotho lay, still partially buried under chunks of the ceiling.   
  
"I'm going to try to move some of this off you," Frodo said quietly as he set the candle down. It was slow going with his shoulder, but Frodo managed to shove some of the larger chunks aside. He went about the task slowly and carefully, trying not to jostle his cousin's injured leg.   
  
A few minutes later, he sat back against the wall, breathing hard from exertion and pain. "There. Can you sit up at all?"   
  
"Why would I want to?" Lotho groaned, but he made an effort to drag himself upward. "This is a fine mess we're in," he grumbled as he brushed some of the dust from his clothing.   
  
"It is indeed," Frodo agreed. "And we're going to have to lay aside our differences for the time being and work together if we want to get out of it."  
  
Lotho gave his cousin a rather dirty look. The last thing he wanted was to have to team up with the little Bucklander. "And I suppose you have just the perfect solution to our current difficulties?" Sarcasm dripped from Lotho's voice.   
  
"I don't know that I do, but I know one thing. We have to try to dig out in hopes that we can at least make a hole that air can get through." Frodo gestured to the candle. "We can't keep this burning for very long. We need air more than we need light."  
  
Lotho had to admit that Frodo was right. The candle would have to go. "Very well, so we dig. How am I supposed to do that with a broken leg, and you with a dislocated shoulder?"  
  
"I can't do much with your leg, without anything to use for a splint," Frodo admitted. "As for my shoulder, it will be very unpleasant, but I want you to try to put it back in place."  
  
Frodo moved into a position where Lotho could grip his arm and pull. He took a deep breath and said grimly, "If you've ever wanted to hurt me cousin, here is your chance."  
  
Lotho wondered how hard a knock on the head he had taken earlier as he found himself laughing at the statement. "Hold still," he said, and counted to three. On the last count, he pulled sharply on Frodo's arm, and his action was answered by a loud cry and a sickening pop.   
  
  
  
Frodo doubled over, gasping, with tears running down his face. Eru, that had been painful! The arm would be very sore, but he found that he could move it now. "Thank you," he managed, trying to regain his composure. He knew he mustn't panic, no matter how dire the circumstances.   
  
"My pleasure," Lotho said snidely, unable to pass up the opportunity.   
  
Frodo frowned as he looked at his cousin. "You just can't let things be, can you? Not even now, when we're both in trouble." He shook his head.   
  
"We wouldn't be here at all if you had just stayed in Buckland where you belong," Lotho shot back.   
  
Pain and frustration made Frodo's voice tighten as he spoke. "How would you know where I belong?" A host of other possible comments rose in him, but Frodo held them back. He wasn't about to tell Lotho anything about his life at Brandy Hall or the reasons Bilbo had asked him to come to Hobbiton.  
  
Lotho noted the edge in Frodo's tone. "So you didn't belong in Buckland either? What a shame." He had caused Frodo pain when he pulled his arm back into its socket, and he wasn't through yet.   
  
"Just stop it!" Frodo shouted at Lotho, all attempts at pleasantries abandoned for the moment. "And to think I believed you were starting to accept the idea of me living at Bag End! You don't care about Bilbo at all, do you?" Frodo's tone softened to a sadder one. "All you care about is getting your hands on his home and his fortune."  
  
"My family and I are his closest relations. Why shouldn't we inherit his fortune when he's gone? I think you came to Hobbiton to get your hands on it yourself. And why not? You're an orphan with nothing to his name, after all!" Lotho knew the mention of Frodo's loss of his parents was a low blow, but that didn't stop him.   
  
Frodo was glad for the darkness around him at that moment. He turned away from the meager candlelight so Lotho couldn't see the shadow of pain that swept across his features at the mention of his parents. "I wouldn't care if Bilbo were the poorest hobbit in the Shire. He's the only person I have who loves me as my parents did. I pity you, Cousin, for your inability to understand such a simple thing as love."  
  
"I don't need your pity, rat!" Lotho spat angrily. How dare Frodo say that to him! "Don't presume to tell me what I understand and what I don't." He glared at Frodo, his eyes gleaming with venomous ire. In that moment he hated Frodo. He needed to hate him, somehow. He needed to know that there was still something he could take from Frodo as Frodo had taken all from him by his very presence.  
  
"Then I hope you understand this," Frodo said, hiding his pain and anger as best he could. "We're trapped here, together. We will either live or die by the decisions we make now, and the actions we take."   
  
Lotho tried to force himself to focus on the moment. Revenge could wait, provided they both got out of their predicament in one piece. "All right then, if you're so smart, what next?" he asked, trying to ignore the pain in his leg.   
  
"Survival is our goal now," Frodo said as he reached for his pack. "It's a good thing I was out for a day's exploring," Frodo sighed as he assessed the contents. "I have water, but not much." There were also a couple of apples and a partial loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth. "We'll have to use all of this sparingly."  
  
Lotho couldn't believe his ears. Frodo seemed to be acting as if their argument had never happened. "You're going to share your food and water with me after everything I've said and done?" Lotho was surprised by Frodo's generosity toward him. Would he have been so willing if their positions were reversed?   
  
"Lotho, what you said and did was wrong, but I cannot in good conscience add more wrong to it," Frodo said patiently. "We're in this together and we're going to get out of here together," Frodo remarked by way of declaring an end to the argument.   
  
Lotho experimentally dug his fingers into the edge of the pile of dirt and rocks that blocked the exit. He swept aside a double handful of the material, and more trickled down from the top of the pile. "I'm not going to be much good trying to dig out from the bottom," he remarked, looking upward. "Every time I move some away, more falls in its place."  
  
"Whatever you can do will help," Frodo told him. "I can stand, so I can dig from higher up. We'll have to take turns, I think." If he were to dig from above at the same time as Lotho was digging below, more of the mass could fall on Lotho and injure him further. As angry as Frodo was with his cousin for his obtuse and malicious attitude, he couldn't bring himself to purposely cause him pain.   
  
"We've got to get you moved back away from all of this for the time being," Frodo said, pointing to a clear space not far away. "When I start digging, I want to make sure you're where I won't cause any more of this to fall on you."   
  
It was Lotho's turn to cry out in pain, as Frodo dragged him backward, inch by inch, away from the wall of fallen stone and earth. Lotho tried to help as much as he could. He knew he was a bit heavy for Frodo even without an injured shoulder to deal with, and he wanted to get any movement over with. Lotho lay back against the floor of the chamber, panting, and closed his eyes. "I guess we'll have to put the light out now," he said glumly. Being trapped was disheartening in and of itself, but being trapped in the dark would be even worse.   
  
"I imagine it will be a challenge, digging with my hands in the darkness," Frodo sighed. "But there's nothing more that can be done. We've got to at least get some ventilation in here." He blew out the candle and began the task of shifting rock and earth from as high as he could reach. His shoulder ached terribly, but he ignored it as stoically as he could.   
  
"Someone will come looking for us. They have to," Frodo said, thinking aloud. "I must admit, I didn't tell Uncle Bilbo exactly where I was going," Frodo explained. "I was hoping to surprise him with some mushrooms." He couldn't keep a slightly bitter tone from his speech as he made the comment.   
  
Lotho grunted at the barb, but answered back. "The only person who knew where I was going was that witless Ted Sandyman," he recalled ruefully. "If there's enough of a fuss when neither of us shows up for supper tonight, maybe he'll hear about it and say something."  
  
"Let us hope he does," Frodo said with a calm he didn't really feel. A pang of guilt shot through him as he thought of how worried Bilbo would be at his absence. Frodo wondered if he would ever be able to stop causing Bilbo trouble. The old hobbit hadn't a great deal of gray hair, but Frodo thought that was soon to change if this sort of thing kept happening.   
  
Frodo continued to pull away rocks and handfuls of dirt, his thoughts drifting as he worked. Lotho had seen an entry in Bilbo's journal stating that Frodo was to become his heir. Frodo tried to imagine Bag End and all its wonders as his own, and failed. It was just too much to grasp at the moment.   
  
But it hadn't been for Lotho. He had been able to imagine it all too well, it seemed. Lotho had tried to make Bilbo look like a poor excuse for a guardian by causing harm to come to Frodo, which Bilbo could not prevent. But the Master of Buckland had not come blustering in to demand that Frodo return to Brandy Hall. Instead, he had come with quiet assurances and good advice.   
  
Frodo cringed at the thought that he had almost fallen for Lotho's suggestion that people thought his presence at Bag End improper. Instead of all of Hobbiton making assumptions, it had turned out to be just a few tweens making crude remarks. No, he had no reason to go dashing back to Buckland any time soon.   
  
Lotho's threats came back to Frodo as he tore at the rocks. His cousin had said that he would take Frodo back to Buckland himself if necessary. Was that Lotho's intention in luring him here? He bit back a bitter laugh. It would have been foolish for Lotho to try such a thing, as no one at Brandy Hall would have made Frodo stay there if he returned under duress.   
  
How sad it was that greed should cause such trouble! Besides, if it were true that Frodo would one day inherit his relative's wealth, he could not imagine leaving any of his family in a state of need. He himself had done well enough with what little he had of his own in Buckland, he reasoned. He need not sit upon some golden hoard like the dragon in Bilbo's tales, but would gladly share his good fortune with family, should they have need of it.  
  
Frodo wondered if Bilbo's reported wealth had been inflated in the imaginations of others. He had been given the run of Bag End over the last few months, and he had yet to stumble over any cache of treasure. Still, whenever anything was needed at Bag End, there was always enough to pay the cost. Frodo shook his head slightly at the thought. Let Bilbo keep his secrets if he chose. Frodo would certainly not be uncouth enough to ask!  
  
Several hours had passed as Frodo did his best to clear away some of the fall and discover how deeply he and Lotho were buried in the hill. He had yet to reach a hand through into the open space he hoped lay beyond the pile in the doorway. His shoulder was hurting and he needed to rest.   
  
Frodo moved slowly toward the wall where he had left the candle and his other supplies, taking care not to step on Lotho. Frodo had never broken a bone, and he could only imagine how much pain his cousin must be in. He sighed as he let himself sink down to lean against the wall.   
  
"Good news?" Lotho's voice came from beside Frodo.   
  
"Not yet, I'm afraid," Frodo answered wearily. "I can't tell how bad the cave - in was beyond this room, but I haven't reached the other side of the debris yet."   
  
Lotho dragged himself in the direction of the pile and began digging away at the edges. He found that if he approached it from one side, much of the material that trickled down from the top missed him by a few inches. He wished they could use the candle, but he knew it was wiser not to. There was no telling how long it would be before someone figured out what had happened.   
  
He found himself wishing that he had taken up with smarter folk than Ted. The miller's son would eventually work out the puzzle, but who knew how long word of two missing tweens would take to reach him. The thought of having to wait for Ted Sandyman to lead a search party to him made Lotho dig with more energy.   
  
Lotho felt frustration, anger, and perhaps even some regret when he thought of the past few months and his efforts to get Frodo to remove himself to Buckland. It had all come to naught, as it was. Assuming he and Frodo were able to escape their current predicament, Lotho knew he and his family would surely be written out of Bilbo's will. Surely it would come to light that he had been to blame for Frodo's misfortunes. After all, why would Frodo keep that information to himself, now that he knew the truth?   
  
No, it would be his little cousin from Buckland who would be the next Master of Bag End, not Lotho. Frodo Baggins, who didn't even seem a proper hobbit at all. He was too thin, too pale, almost fragile - looking in some ways, Lotho mused. But Frodo was not fragile at all. That had been a brutal fall into the icy cold pond water, followed by an illness that was quite serious, if rumor could be believed. Frodo had survived both, and now was fighting to escape being buried alive, putting aside his pain and fear and bending to the task at hand.   
  
The subject of Lotho's musings now lay curled up on the floor of the chamber, drifting in and out of sleep as he rested and conserved his strength. Frodo could feel his shoulder beginning to stiffen and he moved it every so often to prevent it from seizing up. In another hour or so, he would go back to digging and it would be Lotho's turn to rest.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	17. Missing

Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Glad you enjoyed the last chapter. We're back to Frodo and Lotho again in this one, but first we'll look in on Bilbo.  
  
Heartofahobbit - Lotho is unlikely to let himself be won over by Frodo's good character, but he may see his own shortcomings by comparison someday. Lotho might not succeed in something like blaming the cave - in on Frodo, but you can bet he will have his own version of the story.  
  
Endymion2 - Perhaps Frodo should have whacked Lotho over the head for his rude comments! I myself know nothing about re-locating a shoulder that's out of place, besides watching Mel Gibson do it in "Lethal Weapon" by slamming himself into a wall. If it worked for Mel, why not? More interaction between Lotho and Frodo is coming up.  
  
Amelia Rose - Being stuck in a dark hole with Lotho is certainly not the way I would want to spend my time! If they want to survive, they will have to help each other.   
  
FantasyFan - Frodo is too good, especially under these circumstances. Lotho wouldn't go quite so far as to kill Frodo and claim he died in the accident. In fact, Lotho's not much good for digging right now, and he needs Frodo if he wants to get out of there.   
  
Aratlithiel - Lotho is in the presence of something too big and too great for him to understand. Frodo's spirit certainly does shine even in the darkest of places.  
  
LotRseer3350 - Frodo will not say anything specific about what happened in Bree, but he will give some indication in this chapter that the memories are still very strong.   
  
Iorhael - As we know, Lotho never truly learns his lesson, not completely. This might have been an opportunity for him to have done so. Frodo isn't having any more problems from his illness, at least not for the time being.   
  
TTTurtle - Lotho and Frodo will not become friends as a result of this experience, and that is entirely Lotho's decision.   
  
Shire Baggins - Frodo may not be able to realize how far Lotho will go, because his mind doesn't work like Lotho's. Lotho won't try to kill Frodo in the cave - in, but he's feeling pretty angst - ridden with the whole situation right now.   
  
Anime Princess 4 - You want Frodo to punch Lotho? Who knows! Maybe I can arrange that at some time in this story!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 17 - Missing  
  
~*~  
  
Author's note - this chapter contains a reference to events that occurred in "On the Banks of the Brandywine."  
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo paced nervously, unable to remain seated as his thoughts nagged at him. Frodo should have returned hours ago, but there had been no sign of him. For the third time in an hour, Bilbo walked out onto the front step and stood looking down the path in hopes that Frodo would suddenly appear, apologizing for his tardiness.   
  
Frodo did not appear, and Bilbo sighed. As he turned to go back indoors, he caught sight of Sam and the Gaffer in the garden, working diligently. Bilbo made a detour into the garden and called to them.   
  
"Hamfast! Samwise! Have you seen Frodo? He should have been home by teatime and I haven't heard from him." Surprise and concern were evident in the faces of the gardeners as they recalled when they had last glimpsed Frodo that day.  
  
"I haven't seen him since before luncheon," Sam offered. "He had his pack with him and he went off somewheres."   
  
"Aye, that's true," the Gaffer confirmed. "Come to think on it, I've not seen the boy since then myself."   
  
"Did he mention where he might be going?" Bilbo asked hopefully. "The last he told me of his plans was that he intended to go walking and might find a good place to stop and read for a while."  
  
"I know Mr. Frodo likes to do those things," Sam said. "But I was busy out here and I didn't get to talk with him."  
  
Bilbo nodded. So Frodo was late in arriving home, and none of them knew his exact whereabouts. Perhaps someone in town had seen him. "I'm going to ask around. Would you both like to take a rest from your chores and join me?"   
  
"We just finished getting them taters weeded, so I don't see no harm in it," the Gaffer said thoughtfully. It would be dark soon anyway, and they could make an early start of it the following morning.   
  
The Gamgees stowed their tools in the shed, and Sam hurried back home to tell his mother where they were going. No sense having the entire Row in an uproar, and everyone wondering where everyone else had got to.   
  
They asked anyone they met along the way if they had seen Frodo, and by the time they reached the Ivy Bush they had no more information than when they had started. Bilbo sighed wearily as he opened the door and trudged into the inn.   
  
"Good afternoon, my dear," Bilbo addressed the barmaid. "I seem to be short one tweenage lad, and I'm wondering if you've seen Frodo recently?"   
  
She thought for a moment, and the name and face clicked in her mind. "Oh, yes, Master Baggins. It was earlier this afternoon, some hours ago. He stopped in for an ale and a bite, and left soon after."   
  
Just as Bilbo was about to question her further, the door banged open and Otho and Lobelia tromped in. They looked about the room intently, and Lobelia scowled when her gaze fell upon Bilbo and the Gamgees. She made a beeline for them as Otho hurried to keep up.   
  
"Bilbo Baggins! Has that Bucklander of yours got my Lotho into trouble?" she shrilled angrily.   
  
"My dear Lobelia, whatever are you going on about?" Bilbo asked sharply. "I should ask a similar question of you, as Frodo has not returned from his outing today." His eyes narrowed. "We both know every time something untoward has come about that Lotho was never far away."  
  
"How dare you insinuate - " Otho stepped in and held up a hand to still Lobelia's tirade.   
  
"Forgive me, Bilbo, but I just don't want to hear any more on the subject." He looked at Lobelia. "From either of you." Lobelia's mouth hung open as she gaped at her husband. Otho must be irritated indeed, for he never interrupted her.   
  
Otho continued. "We have come looking for Lotho, who is also late to table. Neither of us will make any progress in our searches if we stand here and argue."   
  
"I cannot dispute that," Bilbo said, glad of Otho's bold intervention. The last thing his current mood would tolerate was one of Lobelia's rants. To the room at large, Bilbo said, "Now that we undoubtedly have everyone's attention, has anyone seen Frodo or Lotho?"  
  
Ted Sandyman had been ignoring the entire exchange up to that point, thinking it was just another bit of feuding between Bilbo and his relations. The mention of Lotho caused him to look up and his brow furrowed as he thought.   
  
Lotho had said he was going to Empty Row, and that he was sure Frodo was going too. He got up from his seat and approached the other hobbits. "Your pardons," he said, "but Lotho said somethin' about going to Empty Row earlier."  
  
"Empty Row?" Lobelia exclaimed. "Why would he go there? There's naught there but a couple of abandoned holes."  
  
Ted quailed but answered the question. "Well he said he was goin'," he offered weakly, tongue - tied in the face of Lobelia's ire.   
  
"What about Frodo? Have you seen him as well?" Bilbo quizzed the tween.   
  
"Lotho thought Frodo was going there too," he gulped, discomfited by so many agitated adults staring at him.   
  
"Frodo AND Lotho went to Empty Row?" Bilbo said incredulously. His face reddened as he turned to Otho and Lobelia. "I don't know just what's going on, but if that boy of yours has brought any harm to Frodo - "  
  
Voices erupted in argument as insults and accusations flew. The Gaffer cleared his throat noisily as Sam looked about ready to bolt. "Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Bilbo," Hamfast began, striving to get the old gentlehobbit's attention. "But hadn't we maybe better go see for ourselves if Mr. Frodo is there? It's goin' to be dark soon."  
  
Bilbo bit back the comment he had been about to hurl at Lobelia and nodded. "Let us make our way there immediately." Bilbo didn't bother to say farewell to the other hobbits, but made for the door hastily with the Gamgees following. Lobelia and Otho stood staring after him for a moment.   
  
Lobelia was the first to recover. "What are you staring at?" She whacked Otho on the arm. "Go after our son. I'll be waiting at home."   
  
There was no arguing with Lobelia in such a mood, and Otho sighed as he walked out the door. He hurried to catch up with Bilbo and the Gamgees. "Hold up," he called, huffing as he half walked, half ran to join the other hobbits. "If we're going to the same place we might as well go together. I've got a cart and pony we can use, if you're willing."  
  
Bilbo nodded. Otho wasn't so bad on his own, he reflected. Lobelia was the greater pain by far, and as long as she wasn't going along, Bilbo figured he could deal with the situation. "Very well, thank you for lending a hand."  
  
"My son is out there too, remember," Otho said by way of explanation. "I wonder what they'd be doing together. I didn't think they liked each other."   
  
Bilbo's expression was as sour as unripe berries. "I share your confusion on the matter," he said as the group turned down the path toward the Sackville - Baggins residence to retrieve the cart.   
  
~*~  
  
Frodo reached into the pack and pulled out an apple. He had re - lit the candle briefly so he could see as he used a small knife to cut the apple into slices. He then sawed a couple of chunks off the loaf of bread and brought forth a small flask of water. "It isn't much, but we've little choice, I'm afraid." He handed Lotho his share and munched on a slice of the apple.   
  
"Thanks," Lotho said as he followed suit. "At this point I think I would settle for a bite of anything that didn't bite me first." Bread and apples had never tasted so good to him before.   
  
Frodo shifted uncomfortably as he leaned back against the wall. "It's getting stuffy in here," he commented. They had to break through to fresh air soon, he thought grimly. He wondered how much oxygen was left to them and how long it would last. He and Lotho both looked at the candle at the same time, and Frodo put it out.   
  
"I'm not saying we're going to die or anything like that," Lotho began. "But it sure would be a stupid way to go." He stared into the darkness. "Have you ever thought about it, Frodo? About dying?"  
  
The question caught Frodo off guard. "Well, yes, sometimes," he admitted. He really didn't want to talk about it right then.   
  
"Do you think you'll be afraid, y'know? When the time comes?" Lotho asked blandly.   
  
"I don't know," Frodo answered. He thought he might be, depending upon the circumstances. He had been fairly sure that his parents had been frightened as the river's currents pulled them deeper. He shuddered, suddenly glad of the concealing darkness. "It would depend. If I were very ill, I imagine I wouldn't be afraid. I would just be aware of how terrible I felt."   
  
Lotho nodded. "If it were an accident, it might happen too fast for you to be afraid," he offered. "I wonder what it's like to suffocate," he said morosely.   
  
"Let's not talk about it anymore, all right?" Frodo couldn't keep his voice from catching in his throat. He knew more than he wanted to share about the subject. He remembered hands around his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, and struggling desperately for a single breath of life - sustaining air.   
  
"All right," Lotho agreed after a brief silence. Frodo had shown no signs of agitation until that moment, and Lotho wondered what it was about his question that had made Frodo so upset.   
  
They finished their simple meal in silence, and Frodo rose to resume his turn at digging.   
  
~*~  
  
The cart rattled along the road with Otho and Bilbo in the front and Sam and the Gaffer riding in the back. Bilbo directed Otho as they went, for he was quite familiar with the areas around Hobbiton from his wanderings.   
  
The sun was low in the western sky, promising that nightfall was not far off. Bilbo hoped nothing untoward had occurred and that they found the tweens before darkness fell.   
  
Bilbo's mind bombarded him with a litany of possible disasters that could have kept Frodo from his timely return. He pictured Frodo injuring himself in a fall, being unable to make his way home. He frowned as other possibilities entered his mind. He was more disturbed than he wanted to let on regarding the fact that Lotho was missing as well. Follow the scent of trouble, and you would surely find Lotho! What if Lotho had resorted to something more sinister than mere dirty tricks?   
  
Bilbo glanced at Otho, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Did Otho know anything about Lotho's possible involvement in Frodo's previous mishaps? He was certain Lobelia would have told her husband of their conversation a few months back when Bilbo had warned her to keep Lotho away from Frodo. It seemed his demands had not been taken seriously, at least not by the tween in question.   
  
If Lotho had it in his mind to thrash Frodo, Bilbo was certain that Frodo could handle himself. He'd seen the lad retaliate against a slightly larger assailant at Brandy Hall, and he had noticed a surprising amount of strength in the wiry young hobbit. Frodo was quick on his feet, too. If he couldn't outfight Lotho, he could likely outrun him. There had to be a good explanation for the absence of the two lads, and Bilbo was quite eager to learn of it.  
  
They rounded a bend and the hill where the empty holes were located came into view. Otho stopped the cart a short distance away, and the four hobbits climbed down to investigate. The Gaffer was the first one to reach the mouth of the first hole, and he peered inside.  
  
"Mighty dark in there," he said, turning to look back at the cart. "Is there a lantern around?" he called.   
  
Otho produced a lantern from the cart and lit it. He held it out to Hamfast, who again examined the tunnel. Sam glanced down and saw footprints leading into the darkness beyond. There were two sets, one a little smaller than the other.   
  
"Someone's been here," he said as he pointed. "Those are fresh, Mr. Bilbo."   
  
Bilbo leaned down and examined the prints. "Frodo!" he called down the tunnel. "Are you there, lad?" There was no answer, and Bilbo motioned to Hamfast to give him the lantern. He walked into the tunnel and the others followed his slow progress as he investigated.   
  
"Eru, no!" Bilbo gasped as he came to a place where the tunnel was completely blocked by fallen rock and earth. It was a new fall, he could tell, as the dirt was not tightly compacted but feathered away to the floor at the touch of his hand. He nearly dropped the lantern in his haste to put it down, and began to claw at the obstacle with his bare hands, shouting, "Frodo! Frodo!"  
  
Otho was white as table linen as he looked on in disbelief.   
  
The Gaffer stepped up behind Bilbo and rested a hand on the old hobbit's shoulder. "If we're to be of any use to them, Mr. Bilbo, we'll need more help and some proper tools."   
  
Bilbo forced himself to calm down and listen to his gardener. "Go back and get those sturdy lads of yours, Hamfast. Bring shovels and more lanterns. Hurry!"   
  
Otho bolted out of the hole toward the cart with Hamfast following. Bilbo made no move to join them, but stood staring at the mass of dirt and stone that separated him from someone he cherished. Sam stood beside him, looking on with a mournful expression.   
  
"We'll get Mr. Frodo out safe, Mr. Bilbo," Sam said hopefully. "You'll see."   
  
"We must, Samwise," Bilbo said haltingly.   
  
With nothing better to do until help arrived, Sam began to dislodge the largest rocks he could carry from the pile and toss them aside one by one. Bilbo leaned against the wall of the tunnel with an expression of fear and anguish on his face as Sam worked away at the obstruction with a grim face and stolid determination.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	18. Excavation

Anime Princess4 - Lotho will get what he's got coming to him, eventually. Frodo won't likely be in trouble with anyone who loves him. They're all too worried!  
  
Jules6 - Lotho and Frodo couldn't help but have something to say to each other, given their circumstances. Too bad Lotho is too hateful to gain from it.  
  
Shire Baggns - Bilbo, having spent so long in the safe environment of Hobbiton, cannot conceive of Frodo's being abducted while there. He fears more common kinds of trouble, namely accidents. If Lotho heard about Frodo's ordeal in Bree, he'd be unlikely to believe it, and would probably accuse Frodo of lying. Sam, though young, is indeed the determined protector of the future.  
  
Endymion2 - The site didn't let you review chapter 16, eh? I consider myself fortunate that it allowed you to read it, at least! I doubt Ted could form a coherent sentence no matter how long he's spent at the Ivy Bush. I figure he's probably got a pleasant buzz on after being there from luncheon to after tea!   
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Everyone will be rushing to the rescue very soon!  
  
Aelfgifu - Frodo is much more mature than Lotho, emotionally. He's had so many experiences that have built his resiliency. There will be some nice moments with Frodo and Sam, and Bilbo as well. LOL about your Bramblethorn comment. (For those who wonder what the heck I'm talking about, I'm working on bringing my old buddy Rushford Bramblethorn out of mothballs! - See "In Safekeeping" and "The Way of Vengeance" for more about him!)  
  
Curious Cat - Lotho has some measure of conscience, but every time it tries to come out, his nastier side squashes it. Frodo has had a lot of hardships, hasn't he? One of these days I'll have to bring out a happy, fluffy Shire fic to reward him!  
  
LotRseer3350 - The reference to the events in "On the Banks of the Brandywine" was impossible for me not to do in those circumstances. Lotho knows absolutely nothing about what it's like to be in danger of dying, and his wondering out loud brings back bad memories for Frodo!   
  
Midgette - I'm becoming known for ending in horrible places, I think. More? Ok!  
  
Bookworm2000 - Lotho has more on his mind now than just going after Frodo. If he weren't injured and a good bit frightened by his situation, he would probably hate Frodo all the more for his goodness.  
  
Frodo Baggins87 - Glad you enjoyed the last one. Here's more!  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 18 - Excavation  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
The Gaffer leapt from the cart and burst through the door of Number Three Bagshot Row, all but forgetting the aches in his joints in his haste. Bell Gamgee looked up and favored her husband with an irritated look. "Hamfast Gamgee, you know better than to enter a dwelling such like," she admonished.   
  
"I'm sorry, love, but there's trouble and I need Hamson and Halfred to come and help," Hamfast said breathlessly.   
  
"Trouble?" Bell frowned as she regarded him. "What trouble is it that's got you riled so?" She stopped washing the dishes and gave the Gaffer her full attention.   
  
"Mr. Frodo and Mr. Lotho are trapped in a cave - in at Empty Row," Hamfast said with a hint of desperation in his voice. "They're stuck tight somewheres underground and we've got to dig them out afore - " he gulped as the awful possibilities coalesced in his mind. "We've got to dig them out right away," he finished, as Bell's eyes grew wide with dismay.   
  
She spoke not another word to the Gaffer, but turned and called loudly into the next room. "Hamson! Halfred! Up now and help your father," she shouted, causing two very startled Gamgee lads to appear in the kitchen.   
  
"What's happened?" Hamson asked, looking from one of his parents to the other.  
  
The Gaffer told his elder sons about Frodo and Lotho being trapped in the cave - in, and they bolted out the door toward the shed to grab shovels, buckets, pick - axes, anything that would be useful in excavating. There were several lanterns hanging in the shed and they took them as well as Hamfast led them to Otho's cart.   
  
"Mum, will you, Daisy and May spread the word? If we have more help, we'll get them out faster," Hamson suggested. Bell nodded and gave each of her boys a hug, pleading with them to be careful. If that tunnel had already caved in, there might be more trouble where that came from. She didn't want any of her children getting trapped or injured. She clasped her husband to her tightly, giving him a quick kiss as he climbed up into the cart.  
  
"Will Mr. Frodo be all right?" Sam's younger sister Marigold grasped her mother's arm and looked at her with a fearful expression.  
  
"I hope so, Mari," Bell said, fighting back tears at the thought of the quiet tween being injured. They went back inside to prepare to raise the community to Frodo and Lotho's aid.   
  
~*~  
  
"This is the last of it," Frodo said simply as he passed bread and apple slices to Lotho. Lotho accepted them listlessly. The pain in his leg was getting worse, and he was fighting to remain conscious. Frodo had already forbidden him to help with any more of the digging, insisting that he rest instead.   
  
"Frodo, will you do something for me?" Lotho said quietly.   
  
"What, Lotho?" Frodo replied, wondering what his cousin would ask of him.   
  
"If I don't get out, will you tell my folks I said I loved them?" Lotho spoke so quietly, Frodo had to strain to hear him. His brow creased in a frown as he heard Lotho's request.   
  
"You mustn't talk like that, Lotho. You'll make it, I'm certain." Frodo wished that he dared leave the candle lit longer so he could better see his cousin's injured limb. "Try to stay awake, Lotho. I know it hurts and you want to sleep, but you mustn't. Not now."  
  
"Say you'll tell them," Lotho insisted, squinting into the dim light of the candle so he could see Frodo's eyes and know his cousin was taking him seriously.   
  
"I'll tell them, should it come to that," Frodo said faintly. "But on one condition - that you will tell Bilbo the same in my stead, should I not be found in time."   
  
Lotho found Frodo's hand with his and shook it lightly. "It's a deal," he croaked, lying back against the pebble - strewn floor. "Of course, we're assuming even one of us survives," Lotho said grimly.   
  
"We will both survive, and I won't listen to another word to the contrary," Frodo answered, doing his best to imitate Bilbo's sternest tone. He took one last look at the lonely flame of the candle and snuffed it out regretfully.   
  
"You know you're not so bad for a Brandybuck," Lotho said, producing a short laugh that turned into a cough.   
  
"Thanks, I think," Frodo said by way of reply. He was starting to get used to Lotho's manner of speech, and a compliment was a compliment.   
  
A sound above him made Frodo flinch and he looked around wildly trying to see through the darkness. A pebble fell and struck him squarely on the head and he gasped. "I think it's going to - " he didn't finish the sentence.   
  
Directly above the two tweens, another chunk of ceiling came free, and Frodo barely managed to position himself over Lotho's injured leg in time to block the falling debris. He grunted as a chunk of rock, dirt and moss glanced off his back.   
  
Frodo fell back, coughing and choking on the dust that rose up all around him. "Are you all right?" he asked Lotho as he brushed himself off.   
  
"Peachy," Lotho replied curtly. "Thank you."   
  
"You're welcome," Frodo replied as he felt his way to the main pile of debris to begin digging again.   
  
~*~  
  
Sam and Bilbo emerged from the mouth of the tunnel as the cart rattled up and the Gamgees alit with shovels and lanterns in hand. They didn't stop to question the gentlehobbit or Sam, but went in immediately and started digging.   
  
Bilbo hurried up to Hamfast, who had just finished climbing down from the cart. "Thank you, Hamfast!" He grabbed a spare shovel and turned to join in the digging, as the Gaffer followed, protesting. "You ought not to be diggin' and such, Mr. Bilbo," the old gardener said emphatically.   
  
Bilbo whirled and stared him down. "I may be old, but I'm not useless," he said pointedly. "You yourself are no tweenage lad, either." He held up a hand to forestall the next obvious objection. "And don't give me that wheeze about what a gentlehobbit ought not to be doing, Hamfast. That's my dear lad in danger, and I'll not stand idly by."  
  
The Gaffer seemed to understand and accept Bilbo's statements, but he offered an alternative to Bilbo's determination to dig. "Like as not, two old hobbits like us would only slow them youngsters down," he said, gesturing toward the hole in the hillside. "We'd be a sight more useful in hauling out what they're diggin' I expect." He picked up a bucket.  
  
Bilbo nodded and handed his shovel to Sam, who bolted off to join his brothers. The old hobbit chose a bucket of his own and called out to Otho, who was still seated in the cart, gazing ahead of him in a near catatonic state.   
  
"Otho, old fellow, grab a lantern and come down," Bilbo called.   
  
Otho slowly inclined his gaze toward Bilbo and spoke. "Can we be sure they're really in there?" He asked, hope and desperation in his voice. "They might have taken a different way home and be wondering where we are at this moment."  
  
Bilbo forced down his irritation and spoke as gently as he could. "Otho, the footprints led into the tunnel and disappeared into the wall of debris. Did you see any more footprints leading back out?" Silence answered him. "Loathe as I am to think of it, our lads are trapped in that tunnel, how deeply we know not. Now is not the time for denial or bickering, but for laying aside our differences and working together. Those boys depend on us."  
  
Otho seemed to snap out of it and he took the hand Bilbo held out to steady him as he jumped down from the cart. The lanterns were lit in the fading twilight and the hobbits set to work, establishing a rhythm between them. Sam and his brothers drove their shovels into the mound of debris repeatedly, and the buckets were filled and dumped in a pile outside the tunnel.   
  
Soon they were working in full darkness, the light of the lanterns their only illumination in the darkness of their surroundings.   
  
~*~  
  
Frodo staggered and nearly lost his footing as the rock he'd been prying at came loose in his hands. A trickle of dirt and smaller stones cascaded down around his feet as he paused to wipe the perspiration from his brow.   
  
"We'll be through it soon, I'm certain," he called to his semi - conscious cousin. He was trying to lift his own spirits as well, for he knew their situation was becoming more desperate by the hour. Frodo's breaths came in heaving rasps, and if he could have seen anything in the darkness of the chamber, he would have noticed his vision becoming hazy and indistinct around the edges.   
  
Fatigue finally won out, and he crawled over to collapse next to his pack. He found the water flask and took the smallest sip, offering the same to Lotho. His cousin didn't move to accept the water, but just remained where he was, staring into the blackness.   
  
"Why bother?" Lotho's voice rose quietly nearby. "When you run out of air, you don't need water."   
  
Frodo opened his mouth to contradict the blunt statement of the obvious, but closed it just as quickly when he found he could not dispute it. He'd been digging for hours with naught but his hands, and they were bruised and torn by the sharp edges of the rocks he had pried loose. He had told himself that he had nothing to lose by trying, and it had made him feel better to do something than to quietly await his doom.  
  
Suddenly he felt anger rising within him. "Give up if you want to, but I won't," he said flatly. "Not until my last breath is torn from me will I say there is no hope."   
  
Lotho laughed, not a merry, carefree sound, but a derisive chortle. "So noble, so steadfast," he said. "Will you really keep clawing away at that pile until you topple over and breathe your last? All so that someone will say, 'oh, well at least he tried'?"  
  
"Yes," Frodo said into the darkness. "Somehow, I cannot bring myself to do anything else. If I lose hope, what have I left?" His voice was soft again, contemplative. "They must know what's happened by now. They'll be coming, Lotho. The people who care about us won't leave us here."  
  
"I hope you're right, cousin," Lotho said simply, then changed the subject. "How's your shoulder?"  
  
"Numb, or at least nearly so," Frodo answered, trying to flex the muscles. "I think my digging has kept it from becoming completely stiff."  
  
"My leg is swelled up pretty bad," Lotho commented. "It'll be a while healing, I imagine."   
  
Frodo smiled. Something he had said to his cousin about not giving up must have registered, else Lotho would not be talking of the time to be spent recovering. "Please, have some water. You'll feel better."  
  
Lotho silently accepted the flask, groping until his fingers closed around it. Frodo went back to the pile, feeling in the dark for the next stone to pull out and cast aside.  
  
~*~  
  
Sam emerged with another bucket of rocks and dirt and dumped it onto the growing pile. The heap of earth and stone was becoming larger with every minute, a mute testimony to the care and desperation of those responsible for its existence. He wiped his brow as he looked at the physical evidence of their labor. He had traded his shovel for a bucket when it seemed the digging was outpacing the removal of the debris. Sam tried to tell himself that each time a bucket was upended onto the heap it meant salvation was closer for his new friend. His brow creased as he pondered the circumstances which had led to all of them laboring through the night.   
  
What in the Shire was Frodo doing being anywhere near Lotho? After all that had happened, Sam thought surely Frodo would keep his distance from his elder cousin, who seemed to hold anything but fond thoughts of him. Sam's own thoughts turned to Frodo's quiet demeanor and persistence in finding the good in all things and people. Normally Sam would find such a trait a thing to be praised in another hobbit, but it had led Frodo into far too much danger.   
  
Something caught his eye as he headed back toward the tunnel for another load. There was light on the road! He paused and stared in amazement, then elation. A caravan of wagons, carts, ponies and hobbits on foot was headed toward them, lanterns burning in the darkness and voices already calling out.   
  
"Mr. Bilbo! Hurry, come quick," Sam shouted as he ran toward the mouth of the tunnel. "There's help comin', plenty of it, too!" There had to be at least twenty able - bodied hobbits among the advancing crowd, perhaps more.   
  
Bilbo burst from the hole, dusty and distracted. "Samwise, what are you carrying on about? Can't you see there's work to be - OH!" Bilbo gasped and gripped Sam's arm as a great surge of hope rushed through him. "Bless you Bell," he said under his breath as tears rose in his eyes. Bell Gamgee and her daughters had raised a rescue party of considerable size, and they were drawing nearer every moment.   
  
When Bilbo and Sam did not immediately return to their tasks, the other hobbits slowly emerged from the hole, looking about to see what had distracted the two from the all - important business of digging and hauling. Shouts could now be heard from the approaching helpers, who raised lanterns and shovels in their hands and called out to the weary hobbits already deep into the rescue effort. Shouts of relief came in answer as Hamson thumped Halfred on the back so hard he nearly toppled him.  
  
"Look at that, they've raised all of Hobbiton, I'll be bound!" The Gaffer gaped in shock as the first of the wagons pulled up and hobbits began leaping out of it left and right.   
  
"Where are they, Gaffer? We'll have them out under the stars in no time at all," a sturdy Proudfoot lad shouted as he leapt off a still moving cart.   
  
Master Goodbody was more reserved, waiting until the wagon that bore him came to a halt before he lowered himself to the ground. "Master Baggins, I heard there might be need here of a healer's services, and I am at your beck and call," he said as he glanced around. "Mrs. Gamgee and her girls have done a proper job of emptying Hobbiton, I must say."   
  
"I hope your services will be academic at best, Master Goodbody," Bilbo said as he shook the healer's hand. "We've made fair progress, but those lads are still trapped!" The strain was showing in Bilbo's voice and features as he regarded the healer.   
  
"Let us stand aside and let these strapping young fellows have at it," the healer said as he drew Bilbo aside. "As for you, my dear gentlehobbit, I've a pot of tea hot and ready from my hearth that may hearten you and calm your nerves." Master Goodbody led Bilbo away a short distance and thrust a mug into his hands.   
  
In mere moments, a bucket brigade had formed, and the sounds of industrious digging from within the hole had redoubled. Load after load of debris was brought out and the pile outside began to grow into a hill in its own right.  
  
Hamfast had removed himself from the tunnel when the younger, stronger folk had arrived, and he wandered amidst the milling crowd for a moment before Bell found him and embraced him gladly. "Is there any word of Mr. Frodo?" she asked, searching her husband's face for confirmation that the lad was safe.   
  
"Not as yet, love," the Gaffer replied. "But we've been hard at it since we got here, and now there's more help than we can fit in the hole, I reckon." Bell hugged him again, then turned and started shouting orders.   
  
"Daisy, May, get them fires a - burnin' and that tea brewin' now," she called. "We got us a lot of busy lads to keep on their feet for as long as it takes, so let's not waste time!" She hurried off to a long, low cart that had been outfitted hurriedly into a makeshift kitchen. Fires were started in hastily assembled stone rings on the ground and water was soon heating over them for tea. Baskets of bread and cauldrons of soup were also being readied. Nobody had known how long into the night they would have to labor to save the trapped tweens, but they were prepared to warm and feed as many workers as cared to raise a shovel.   
  
The night air was filled with the ringing of metal against rock and dirt, and the grunts and shouts of diggers and haulers as everyone put forth their best effort to hopefully avert a tragedy.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	19. A Light in the Darkness

Aratlithiel - Thank you for the compliment regarding the dialogue. That's my favorite part of any story. And thank you again for your help as beta for my stories!  
  
Peony - Fear can make people behave in unexpected ways for sure. You've got Lotho pegged as far as your predictions of his future behavior.   
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - Don't worry, Lotho isn't going to get too overly friendly with Frodo. He will still evolve into the creepy character who proclaims himself 'chief' later on. I promise to get Frodo out of the pickle he's in, and soon!  
  
FrodoBaggins87 - The things you have been waiting for will be happening in this chapter. As to the rapid updates, I'm addicted to all those little e-mails that say "Review Alert". Gotta have my daily dose!  
  
Ovo - Thanks for joining us! There will be more 'go Bilbo!' moments in this story.   
  
TTTurtle - You mentioned that you can virtually 'see' the chapters playing out as you read them. The same thing happens to me when I'm writing. It's like I'm watching a movie in my head, and just writing what I see and hear. Is anyone going to die in this story? I'll answer that question here in this chapter!  
  
Arwen Baggins - I hope you grandmother is doing better. Sometimes it seems like hope is all that's left, and it has to be preserved at all costs. We've got some hobbits to rescue, don't we?  
  
Illyria Pffyffin - We can pity Lotho a little bit in this story. He's just got his priorities all wrong. Buckland is just a little too far away for Saradoc and Merry to come and help, but you'll see them again before the story is over!  
  
Iorhael - The story still has a couple more chapters to go before we reach the end. As to Lotho's behavior in the future, there are two roads he could take. I'll let you know which one when we get closer to the end.   
  
Shirebound - You won't have to wait any longer! We'll see just how long Lotho's good will lasts.  
  
Curious Cat - You'll be able to see how Lotho reacts once he's out of this mess starting in chapter 20. He could have been a decent sort if he had just chosen to be.   
  
Fantasy Fan - Great speculation on how Lotho might have turned out if not for his upbringing. Your comments defining Frodo as having 'endurance without hope' were also wonderful. That's one of the things that makes Frodo so heroic, isn't it?   
  
Amelia Rose - Frodo's talk about hope shows that he believes in it. He will need such belief and stout - heartedness where he's headed. Sorry I didn't get them out in the last chapter, but we're getting there!  
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - Glad the images are so vivid for you! I had not envisioned these to be the same empty smials from "The Way of Vengeance", but that would have been awfully ironic, wouldn't it?   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 19 - A Light in the Darkness  
  
Frodo paused to rest again from his labors, and within a few moments he was dozing. Someone or something seemed almost to be singing to him, telling him to sleep, to close his eyes and let the darkness around him draw him in and hold him. It was so soothing, so tempting, so hard to resist.   
  
Another voice now seemed to break through the soft whisperings of the one that beckoned him to drift away, and he opened his eyes at its command.   
  
"Frodo! Don't do it! Don't let go!" The voice said softly but insistently.   
  
"Merry?" Frodo said aloud and opened his eyes. He could still see nothing in the blackness, but he was all but sure he had heard Merry telling him something important. "Merry, I hear you. Where are you, Merry?" Frodo called out aloud.   
  
A hand grasped him and shook him, and he gasped as the shock jolted his shoulder. The shaking woke him fully and the dream voices were gone, replaced by another.   
  
"There's nobody here, Frodo," Lotho said grimly. "Just you and me, and that pile of debris in the doorway, mocking us."   
  
"I must have been dreaming," Frodo said faintly. He was dizzy and his mind was becoming increasingly muddled.   
  
"Who were you talking to?" Lotho asked idly. He had thought he'd heard or seen something a couple of times, but he knew it was just the effect of oxygen deprivation on his mind.   
  
"I thought I heard my cousin Merry," Frodo said, staring into the dark. "He told me not to let go. It was so clear, I could have sworn he was right next to me."   
  
"Your mind is playing tricks on you," Lotho informed him. "You're hearing things."  
  
Frodo didn't want to believe Lotho's words. It heartened him to think of Merry encouraging him and trying to raise his spirits. That was certainly what Merry would do if he were there, wasn't it? But Merry wasn't there. He was at Brandy Hall, and he had no idea of what was happening to his elder cousin in Hobbiton.   
  
"I know he isn't here, not really," Frodo said softly. "But he's with me in spirit wherever I go."   
  
Lotho didn't respond, but he considered Frodo's words. What did it feel like to have someone would could be such a part of one's life that they seemed present even when they were far away? Lotho found himself envying his young cousin all the more for the love that surrounded him.   
  
~*~  
  
"Why haven't they got them out yet?" Lobelia fairly wailed as she dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "They must work harder and faster! My Lotho - "  
  
"Your boy is going to be fine, Miz Lobelia," Bell said patiently. She rolled her eyes as she turned to ladle hot soup into a bowl for one of the workers. She was all smiles and reassurances when she turned around again. "Those fellows in there are getting closer every minute to breakin' through and findin' them. Why, those two lads are probably diggin' their way out too, and everyone is goin' to meet somewheres in the middle!"  
  
"It was probably that Bucklander's doing, my Lotho being in a wretched place like this," Lobelia nattered on imperiously. "Lotho has more sense than to go poking about in abandoned delvings."  
  
Bell frowned at the obviously derogatory reference to Frodo. "Well, Miz Lobelia, I can't say whether Mr. Frodo's got anything to do with Mr. Lotho's bein' here, but I'd wager that Mr. Frodo wouldn't be here himself if not for some encouragement of some kind." She didn't want to step out of place, but it nettled her to hear Lobelia speak so of a fine lad like Frodo.  
  
"Are you saying it's Lotho's fault all this has come about?" Lobelia shrilled angrily.   
  
"I ain't said nothin' of the kind, Miz Lobelia," Bell soothed. "It's just me and mine have got to know Mr. Frodo a bit, and he'd have to be given a good reason to go explorin' empty tunnels and such."   
  
Lobelia thankfully said nothing further, but stomped off toward the hill to harangue the diggers and haulers for not having brought her son to safety as yet.   
  
"I don't much like Miz Lobelia," May told her mother. "She's rather mean, isn't she Mum?"  
  
Bell sighed and hugged her daughter. "I don't think she's really mean, May," Bell explained patiently. "I just don't think she's happy somehow. She loves her boy, sure as Mr. Bilbo loves Mr. Frodo, and she just wants him back safe."  
  
May nodded. She supposed that Lobelia truly did love her son and was just as distraught about Lotho's entrapment as they and Bilbo were about Frodo's, but she didn't see why Lobelia had to make such a fuss about it and find fault with everyone around her. She thought about the hobbits who were working to save the trapped tweens and felt pity for their having to deal with Lobelia shrieking at them.   
  
~*~  
  
In the tunnel, work was progressing steadily, and the diggers had cleared a great deal of debris out of their way. More stood between them and their goal, and Halfred attacked it grimly. His arms ached and his back was starting to feel the strain as well, but he kept at it single - mindedly, driving the shovel into the rubble again and again.   
  
The diggers would dump their shovels full of debris into buckets, which were passed down a line from one hobbit to the next. The buckets would be emptied and passed up a second line to come back to the diggers again for refilling. The process continued apace, with hobbits trading tasks with each other when someone wearied of hauling or digging. The soup and bread revived the tired ones and the hours passed tensely.   
  
As Hamson dug his shovel in, a fresh chunk came down from above and half buried him on the spot. A great commotion arose as hobbits rushed in to pull the young Gamgee free from the rubble, and curses erupted at the new setback. The sounds of digging and shouting filled the night air hour by hour as the rescuers strove to regain lost ground and to break through the debris that imprisoned the two tweens.   
  
~*~  
  
Lotho heard a groan and a thud somewhere nearby. He called out in the direction from which the sound had come, and no answer came back. Frodo had been clawing at the debris again but Lotho could no longer hear the sound of earth and rock being moved by the hobbit's small hands.   
  
"Blast you for a Buckland Bookworm!" Lotho shouted as he dragged himself forward a few inches. A sweat broke out on his brow and he gritted his teeth as he slowly moved toward where Frodo had fallen. He reached out and his fingertips brushed the fabric of Frodo's sleeve. He forced himself to stretch out until he had a firm hold on his cousin's arm.   
  
"Wake up, you little - " He shook the arm as hard as he could and was rewarded with a low moan.   
  
Frodo had passed out momentarily and came to as Lotho shook him. His head spun and ached terribly as he tried to get his bearings again.   
  
"Now that I've got your attention, Cousin, just make sure you don't die and leave me to clean up the mess, all right?" It wasn't much encouragement, but it was all Lotho felt up to at the time. Besides, it felt good to yell at Frodo, whether or not it should.   
  
Somehow, Lotho found that he just couldn't hate Frodo quite as much as he had wanted to. It was impossible, because Frodo wouldn't hate him back. Lotho could pound on him, sink him in a frigid pond, and threaten him openly, and Frodo would keep extending his hand in search of friendship. They would likely never be friends, Lotho knew, but he had to admit to a grudging respect for the young cousin who had appeared and placed himself firmly between Lotho and a sizeable fortune.   
  
How someone so pale and fragile - looking could go forth with such strength and persistence was a mystery to Lotho. Frodo was surely suffering from the injury to his shoulder, yet he had doggedly torn at the wall of debris that denied them freedom and fresh air. But that strength was fading now, and exhaustion was evident in the short, rasping breaths Lotho could hear from nearby. It was the sound of lungs that were starving for air and finding only enough to barely sustain them, and Lotho was not much better off.   
  
"Did you hear me, Frodo?" Lotho said, still gripping his cousin's arm.   
  
"I heard you," Frodo said in a near whisper. "Keep talking to me."  
  
Keep talking? Lotho searched for something to say. It was hardly appropriate, he knew, but he resorted to telling some of the rather off - color jokes he had learned from Ted a week earlier. Frodo might have laughed at some of them if he were more coherent.   
  
~*~  
  
Halfred was about to jam the shovel into the debris again when he suddenly paused and gestured for silence in the tunnel. It was probably just his imagination, but he thought he had heard something, a faint sound of a voice, someone shouting.   
  
"Quiet," he said, heedless for once of properly respectful speech. "I thought I heard somethin'!" The other hobbits moved forward to crowd close to the wall of debris.   
  
"Somethin' like what?" one of the other hobbits asked. If it was the sound of more of the tunnel giving way, he wanted to make sure it wasn't about to happen anywhere near him.   
  
"Like a voice," Halfred replied with some hesitation. He didn't want to raise hopes falsely. "I thought I heard a voice."   
  
That was all any of the workers needed to hear. Those with shovels bent to the task with new energy and the buckets were circling round almost more quickly than they could be filled up again.   
  
~*~  
  
"That one really is funny, when you don't have your mind on other things," Lotho said of the joke he had just finished telling. He fell silent, having exhausted his supply of questionable humor for the time being. "Heard any other good ones lately?" he muttered.  
  
Frodo struggled to shape a coherent reply. "I - I heard," he stammered. "Something - " he trailed off, drifting again until a nudge from Lotho roused him. "Sounds like - like digging." Frodo fell silent and Lotho stopped shaking him to listen for the sound his cousin had mentioned.   
  
It was a moment later, but he heard it, or at least imagined that he did. It was a faint scraping. Metal against rock? The sound grew louder and Lotho thought he heard voices accompanying it. "Frodo!" Lotho nudged Frodo again. "I hear it, Frodo!"   
  
Frodo wasn't paying attention. He was barely conscious and his eyelids felt like they were made of stone. He opened them with a great effort and he realized he must be dead when he saw a shaft of light shining through the darkness. Had he been able to keep his eyes open a moment longer, he would have seen rock and dirt tumbling away to reveal the hands of the rescuers tearing a path up and over the remaining mound of debris.   
  
Lotho chose that moment to lose consciousness as well, whether out of exhaustion or sheer relief, he would never know with certainty. Sam helped Bilbo to climb over the rubble to Frodo's side. Otho reached his son a moment later and tears of relief flowed freely as those who were thought lost were found again.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	20. An Understanding

FrodoBaggins1982 - Bell is a sweetheart, but a tough cookie as well. She has to be to put up with that lively brood of hers! Lotho is just unable to be nice for more than 30 seconds at a time, and I'm not sure 'nice' is even the right word!  
  
Anime Princess4 - Happy reunions contained herein. Lotho's a pain in the butt. Always.  
  
Iorhael - Saved, and not a moment too soon! Lotho? Take the good path? There ain't a wizard in Middle Earth who can make that happen!  
  
LotRseer3350 - A couple more chapters to go, and lots of warm fuzzies!  
  
Midgette - I see you out there! Ff.net was a little funny about letting people review the last couple chapters. Maybe it's all fixed now.  
  
Tavion - It's nearly impossible not to like Frodo, unless you're Lotho, that is. Let's just see how Frodo handles it when everyone wants to know what happened.  
  
QTPie2488 - When Lobelia isn't screeching in his ears, Otho can actually think!   
  
Aratlithiel - Lotho's grudging respect for Frodo won't be enough to keep him from returning to his old, nasty self, I'm afraid. Glad you liked the rescue!  
  
Shirebound - Yay! That about sums it up, doesn't it?   
  
Amelia Rose - Lotho has learned a thing or two about his cousin, hasn't he? And as for the review of your story, you're welcome. It was quite nicely done.   
  
Bookworm2000 - Lotho is unlikely to let his insight into Frodo's character keep him from behaving as nastily as ever. Frodo was having auditory hallucinations when he thought he heard Merry's voice. From one bookworm to another, we've all heard it used as an epithet!  
  
Aeflgifu - You're getting ahead of me! LOL! Bramblethorn will be back, but not until my next fic which is still in the making. We're not quite to the end of this one yet, but I plan for to be happy! Thanks for your compliments on my gaggle of hobbits interacting with each other. I have more fun writing Bilbo every time I try it.  
  
Endymion2 - I think you're right that Lobelia is unable to just be happy with what she has in life.   
  
Camellia - Gamgee - Took - We found them, so lets go give them a hug. Frodo, at least.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
References to "On the Banks of the Brandywine" included.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 20 - An Understanding  
  
"Frodo! Oh, Frodo lad, please say something," Bilbo urged as he wrapped his arms around the youngster. "Please tell me you're all right."   
  
Frodo gasped and coughed as fresh air filled his lungs for the first time in hours. His eyes opened to the welcome sight of Bilbo hovering over him, tired eyes bright with tears. He tried to say something but only coughed instead as his lungs attempted to clear themselves. Finally he managed to whisper a few words. "I'm so sorry, Uncle."  
  
"Sorry? Whatever for?" Bilbo hugged him closer.   
  
"I'm sorry for causing so much trouble," Frodo said quietly. "First Bree, now this." He coughed again.   
  
"You did not cause any of the things you speak of, my boy," Bilbo reasoned. "You are no trouble to me, Frodo. Can't you see that you matter more to me than anything and that I would gladly do anything for you?"  
  
"Easy, lads," a voice instructed from the newly reopened passage as Master Goodbody was helped across the threshold of the chamber. "Move me carefully, and don't move those boys until I get a look at them."   
  
Frodo pointed at his cousin. "Lotho first. He was more badly injured than I," Frodo told the healer as he drank gratefully from a flask of water that Bilbo held to his lips.   
  
"What about you, lad? Are you hurt?" There was real fear in Bilbo's voice as he looked Frodo over intently, searching for any signs of serious injury.   
  
The water helped Frodo to find his voice. "My shoulder." As he was revived more fully, the pain of his injury flared to life, and he tried to keep still to avoid the stabs of agony that followed any movement of the arm.   
  
Master Goodbody examined Lotho's swollen leg while the tween drank the water he was given. "I would say a splint is in order," he muttered as he checked for other damage. "We will have to move him carefully."   
  
The healer turned to Frodo. "You said your shoulder was injured?" Frodo nodded and Master Goodbody prodded the joint carefully with his fingers. "Dislocated, was it?" Another nod from the patient. "It seems to be back in place now, but the muscles will remember the insult for a little while, I'm afraid." Master Goodbody noted that other than bruises and scrapes, the two tweens were in satisfactory condition.   
  
Another hobbit came hurrying in with two mugs of steaming tea and the healer produced a couple of packets from his pocket. He dumped the herbs into the mugs and handed them to Bilbo and Otho. "There's something in the tea to ease the pain. We must get them out into the open, or risk them being injured further by another collapse."   
  
Bilbo and Otho helped the youngsters sit up and drink the tea. They were wondering how long they dared to wait for the remedy to take effect, and looked at the ceiling above them suspiciously.   
  
Sam made his way in and retrieved Frodo's pack. He gave Lotho a glance, but quickly turned his full attention to Frodo. "Mr. Frodo," Sam said as he knelt beside Bilbo. "Please don't go and scare me no more. I can't bear it."   
  
The look on Sam's face went straight to Frodo's heart and he grasped his friend's hand. "I'm sorry, Sam. Thank you for helping me."  
  
Something almost protective came into Sam's eyes. "I'll always help you, Mr. Frodo. You're the best friend I've got, and I'm goin' to keep an eye on you from now on, just see if I don't!"   
  
Bilbo smiled and wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders. "I'd be glad of the help, Samwise. Between the two of us, we should be keeping this lad out of further trouble, eh?" Bilbo realized that further trouble might be closer than they thought if another cave - in should occur.   
  
"Frodo, can you stand? We mustn't stay here any longer." Bilbo rubbed softly at a smudge of grime on Frodo's cheek. "Bell and the girls are here and they have some hot soup and bread for you, and warm blankets as well."   
  
Frodo was already beginning to feel light - headed, but this time from the tea rather than a lack of air to breathe. "I'll try," he mumbled, and allowed Bilbo to support him by holding onto his good arm. Halfred rushed over to add his strength and Frodo was brought to his feet. It took some moments for them to negotiate the remaining rubble in the doorway, but they were in the main tunnel in short order.   
  
Lotho looked up into his father's concerned face and spoke. "Where's Ma?"  
  
Otho smiled faintly. "She's outside somewhere, carrying on as always," he said, his voice sounding tired. "And if you tell on me for saying that, you and I will likely both be in the healer's care," he joked.   
  
Lotho thought about his mother wielding the infamous umbrella and smiled back briefly. The smile faded quickly as another stab of pain ran the length of his injured leg.   
  
More supplies were brought in and the healer splinted Lotho's leg with care, trying to keep from causing unnecessary discomfort. "It's a clean break, I'll wager," Master Goodbody said as he carefully felt the limb. He motioned for a few sturdy - looking hobbits to help carry Lotho out of the room. Otho followed on their heels as they made their exit.   
  
A cheer rose from the hobbits assembled outside as Frodo and Lotho were brought out of the hole. Bell rushed forward with blankets and the lads were taken to an empty wagon and settled as comfortably as possible.   
  
  
  
"This is your fault, Bilbo Baggins!" Lobelia shouted as she rushed up in a fury. "Yours, and that Brandybuck's!" She pointed at Frodo who was too weary to protest.   
  
"And how did you arrive at that conclusion, Lobelia?" Bilbo shot back, facing her and fixing her with his coldest stare. "I'd suggest we let these lads explain what happened, provided they're feeling up to it." Bilbo desperately wanted an explanation himself.   
  
"Lotho, go ahead," Lobelia said, patting her son's arm as he lay in the wagon. "Tell us how that Bucklander got you into this, dear."   
  
Lotho looked at his mother uneasily. Otho, while not hurling accusations like his wife, was also looking at him for an explanation. Lotho had been too preoccupied with the question of survival to think about how he would explain once salvation had come, and now he faced the moment with growing dread.   
  
"I - that is, we - " Lotho stammered, trying to think of a way to extricate himself. If Bilbo heard the truth of the matter, the question of the Sackville - Bagginses' and the old hobbit's will would be decided against them for certain. "Well, it was like this," he began, but Frodo was already a step ahead of him. He paled anew as his cousin began to speak, fearing what was surely to come.  
  
"It was all an accident," Frodo said softly, locking his gaze with Lotho's. "I was exploring. I'd heard a rumor that there might be some mushrooms around," Frodo said, allowing himself to enjoy the uncomfortable look that crossed Lotho's face for a moment. "Lotho was about and saw me go into the tunnel." Frodo looked at Bilbo, then back to Lotho again. "He followed me in - " he hesitated, but only briefly. " - to warn me."  
  
Lotho looked at Frodo in disbelief. Frodo wasn't lying to the elder hobbits, but he wasn't telling the entire tale, either. Lotho reflected that he had indeed seen Frodo go into the hole, and had in fact been lying in wait for him! He had followed Frodo inside to warn him, but not of the dangers of exploring abandoned delvings.   
  
Now Frodo was purposely keeping the truth of the matter to himself! Why? Lotho's mind was reeling. Frodo hadn't told, but he could have. And he could still, any time he wanted to. Lotho couldn't hold back a groan as he realized that Frodo had bested him handily.  
  
Frodo gave Lotho a conspiratorial half - smile, and looked up at Bilbo again.   
  
He hoped he had convinced his guardian of the events as he had told of them. He had seen a spark of something in Lotho's eyes as he had spoken, and he knew that Lotho was aware of what had just happened and all that it meant.   
  
"Then it was your Bucklander's fault," Lobelia crowed in triumph. "My Lotho would never have had to go into such a horribly dangerous place had he not been kind enough to try and keep him out of trouble!" She pointed a finger perilously close to Frodo's face, and Frodo recoiled instinctively.   
  
"Calm down, will you, Mum?" Lotho's voice was ragged and weary, but Lobelia's wagging tongue was stilled as she realized her own son was contradicting her. "Frodo didn't twist my arm and pull me in with him, you know." He looked downward with a frown as he continued. "I went in by my own choice." Again, the truth, from a certain standpoint.   
  
Bilbo looked at Frodo sharply. Something was going on, and he wanted very much to know what it was. He had the distinct feeling of having missed something, rather like the sensation of walking into a room and hearing only part of a conversation. He raised an eyebrow as he regarded the tween, who had schooled his own features into an expression of innocence. He'd seen that look before, and he shook his head in defeat.   
  
Bilbo climbed up to stand in the wagon and addressed the crowd of hobbits, who cheered again as he spoke.   
  
"Thank you all for what you have done," he called out, letting his gaze drift over the listeners. "You helped save these two lads and at considerable risk to yourselves." Bilbo nodded at Otho and Lobelia. "Someone else has a few words to say, I believe."   
  
Lobelia was clearly on the spot, and she glared at Bilbo. Otho placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded, turning her to face the crowd. "We thank you as well," Otho said, and nudged his wife. Lobelia threw a frown at him, but followed his lead. "Yes, thank you for finding our son."  
  
Bilbo spoke again. "Let us be on our way then," he suggested. "All of you to the warmth and comfort of your homes with the satisfaction of a job well done, and we with our deepest gratitude to you for your efforts."   
  
More cheers and a few waves came from the group as they began to scatter toward the other wagons and carts that stood nearby. Otho climbed up into the driver's seat and Lobelia remained in the back with Lotho. Bilbo was there also, and for once, silence prevailed between them as they started for Hobbiton.  
  
Sam had re - joined his family and helped his mother and sisters pack up the supplies they had brought with them. He had wanted very much to go with Bilbo and Frodo, but he knew better than to ask. Frodo had enough good company in Bilbo for the moment, and Sam could visit his friend soon, when there had been time for Frodo to recover.   
  
~*~Bag End, mid - morning~*~  
  
The bell chimed and Bilbo opened the door to admit Sam. "There's a good lad, and right on time," he said crisply as he ushered Sam inside.   
  
"I'm ready for my lessons, Mr. Bilbo," Sam said excitedly. With all the commotion, there hadn't been time to approach Sam's studies with the energy originally intended. Now that things were hopefully calming down, Sam was ready to apply himself to learning his letters and had appeared as expected that morning.   
  
"First some tea, and then we'll begin," Bilbo said, leading Sam into the kitchen. As Sam seated himself at the table, Bilbo chatted idly while pouring the tea. "Frodo is doing much better already," he said, answering in advance what he knew would be Sam's first question.   
  
"Where is he, Mr. Bilbo?" Sam asked curiously.   
  
"Frodo is resting for the moment," Bilbo told him as he placed a cup and saucer in front of his young student. "He said to tell you how glad he was to see you, you know."  
  
Sam's face colored as he listened. "I was plenty glad to see him too, Mr. Bilbo."   
  
"I've given him one of those herbal remedies of Master Goodbody's to make sure he gets some rest and relief from pain. His shoulder is quite tender, and will be for a while," Bilbo remarked. He gave Sam a wink and a smile. "He pulled a face as sour as you please, but he took his medicine bravely otherwise."  
  
Sam giggled at the thought of what Bilbo was describing. He had been dosed with those nasty potions enough times to know exactly what look Frodo must have worn when he drank his portion.   
  
Bilbo's expression became more serious as he prepared books and paper for Sam's lesson. "You and Frodo have the beginnings of quite a friendship, I believe," he said, stirring his tea.   
  
Sam looked down at his teacup uncertainly and Bilbo regarded him curiously. "Something on your mind, Sam lad? Speak it plainly, I won't bite you."   
  
Sam looked up and stammered, "If it ain't proper, me and Mr. Frodo bein' friends at all, I'll understand."   
  
A look of mild consternation crossed Bilbo's face as he answered. "And why would it not be proper for Frodo to have such a good friend as Samwise Gamgee?" Bilbo held Sam's gaze as he spoke. "Sometimes I wonder at the notions your Gaffer puts into your head. He's very old - fashioned, as I'm sure you're well aware." Sam nodded. "The point is, lad, Frodo could not have a better friend in all of Hobbiton than you. You are meant to be friends, I believe, and I would be quite sorry to see things any other way."  
  
"Really, Mr. Bilbo?" Sam said, brightening somewhat. "My Gaffer don't mind it neither, but he told me not to be makin' a nuisance of myself and all."  
  
Bilbo's eyes twinkled merrily. "That sounds just like Hamfast indeed," he admitted. "Samwise, if you are a nuisance, then I am a cave troll," he said pointedly. "Now, for your lessons." Bilbo opened a book and began to drill Sam patiently on letters and sounds, having him write each letter on the paper as they went. The time passed pleasantly with Sam putting forth his best effort and Bilbo nodding encouragingly.   
  
A series of quiet footfalls caused Bilbo and Sam to look up, as Frodo peered into the kitchen. He hadn't wanted to interrupt Sam's lesson, but he had been awakened by his growling stomach.   
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam jumped up, lessons forgotten as he hugged his friend, being mindful of Frodo's sore arm.   
  
"Hello, Sam," Frodo laughed. "Been hard at work then?" He examined the evidence of the educational pursuits in progress.   
  
"Mr. Bilbo showed me how to write all the letters today," Sam said enthusiastically as Bilbo nodded with approval.   
  
"A quick study, our Samwise," Bilbo praised his student. "Sam will be reading anything he can get his hands on before we know it."   
  
The conversation was interrupted as the doorbell rang. Frodo was suddenly glad that he had taken the time to dress properly before emerging from his room. He could just imagine his embarrassment at being caught in his nightshirt by a visitor.   
  
The visitor in question was Sam's elder brother and he greeted Bilbo with a smile. "Good morning, Mr. Bilbo," Halfred said brightly. "I've come to fetch Samwise back home for second breakfast."   
  
"And not a moment too soon, for he's likely worked up a great appetite with his studies," Bilbo chuckled. Sam blushed and gathered up the list of exercises Bilbo had prepared for him to take home.   
  
"Thank you Mr. Bilbo. I'll work on my letters tonight after supper," Sam promised as he joined Halfred in the doorway.   
  
Halfred waved to Frodo when he noticed him. "Good to see you up and about, Mr. Frodo," he called.   
  
"It's good to be so, Halfred," Frodo answered. "I owe my thanks to you and all your family for working so hard to get me out of that tunnel."   
  
"I'll gladly accept on behalf of all of us," Halfred answered warmly. "It weren't nothin' we wouldn't do again in a minute if need be," he assured Frodo.   
  
"Well I do hope to spare you such efforts in the future," Frodo said ruefully. "I don't think I'll be going into any empty smials any time soon."  
  
"You had better not, young hobbit," Bilbo said sternly. "The only thing I want to have to dig you out of is that comfy bed of yours when you've slept too late!" The comment drew laughter from the Gamgees and an embarrassed grin from Frodo.  
  
After bidding Sam and his brother good day, Bilbo and Frodo sat down together for a bite to eat and a chat. "I have a feeling that there was more to the story than you were telling last night, Frodo," Bilbo said, coming right to the point. He fixed Frodo with a glance that said, 'I'm waiting.'  
  
Frodo grinned sheepishly. "Nothing more to tell, really, Uncle," he answered.  
  
Bilbo frowned. "Now, Frodo, you're not going to break your promise, are you lad? About keeping to yourself, hmmm?"  
  
Frodo considered. "I promised not to hold out about things that are bothering me," he admitted. "But I've nothing bothering me, particularly."  
  
"So whatever happened, you're somehow satisfied with the outcome then?" Bilbo continued to probe, looking for any grains of truth that might have slipped away unnoticed the previous night.   
  
"I am," Frodo said simply, toying idly with a spoon. "Lotho and I have reached something of an understanding between us regarding certain matters," he said cryptically.   
  
"An understanding? Would you care to explain further?" Bilbo tried his best to sound like an elder hobbit dealing with an exasperating tween, but in truth he was enjoying the exchange immensely. He saw Frodo's caginess as proof that the lad was growing up and had somehow dealt with the Lotho problem in his own fashion, without assistance.   
  
"Not much to explain, really." Frodo shrugged, then winced regretfully. "When you're trapped in a confined space with someone, you learn things about them, and I think we both learned a few things about each other," he said as he rubbed his shoulder.   
  
"Well, the day a Sackville - Baggins actually learns something is a day to mark indeed," Bilbo said with a snort. "And just what did you learn about that cousin of yours then?"  
  
"I learned that not everyone has a trusting nature, including Lotho," Frodo answered. "Lotho seems to have a hard time trusting anyone, maybe because he hasn't always invited their trust."  
  
"Indeed." Bilbo was impressed by the comment, finding it to be right on the mark. "One who is not trustworthy seldom trusts others." He leaned closer and watched Frodo's expression as he asked, "And what do think Lotho might have learned about you?"  
  
"I think he learned that I mean him no harm, certainly," Frodo said as he turned the spoon over in his hands. "That I didn't show up here just to draw attention away from him or to spite him somehow." Frodo didn't want to let Bilbo see that he was aware of the adoption plans. Bilbo had obviously planned to present the idea as a surprise to him at Forelithe.  
  
"I think he learned that you're not easily put off, either," Bilbo countered thoughtfully. "Unless I miss my guess, you kept yourself busy in that tunnel trying to dig out with naught but your fingers." Bilbo gestured to the places where angry red scratches stood out plainly on Frodo's hands. "I think you showed him that nobody bothers a Baggins, if he possesses an iota of sense."   
  
Frodo laughed. "I don't think I'll be much troubled by Lotho, if that's what you mean," he answered. "We may not be friends, but I believe truce has been declared, at least for the time being."   
  
"I'll take truce to open warfare, certainly," Bilbo said with a smile. "But don't think I won't be keeping my eye on you just the same," he lectured. "With the help of young Samwise, I hope to keep you out of trouble for a long time to come."  
  
Frodo pretended to look hurt. "How unfair! Two against one!"  
  
"No, not against, I would say," Bilbo remarked. "Sam is quite fond of you, lad. He's going to make a splendid friend."  
  
"He already has, Uncle," Frodo said thoughtfully. "I'm very glad to have met him and his brothers."   
  
"What about his sisters?" Bilbo teased.   
  
Frodo rolled his eyes. "They're very nice, Uncle, but they're too young for me."  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Bilbo continued. "Seems to me Daisy is only a few years younger than you are." Frodo looked at him pleadingly and Bilbo laughed.   
  
"Barely a tween and already you're trying to marry me off," Frodo quipped dramatically, and he and Bilbo both dissolved into peals of laughter.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	21. Celebration

Aelfgifu - Even Lotho has to admit his mother can be a trial at times! I like to believe there's a little good in everyone, and it's all about whether they choose to use it.  
  
GamgeeFest - Yes, Frodo rather has got Lotho by a certain bit of his anatomy, doesn't he?   
  
Shirebound - Sam's worries as to whether he will be thought of as an 'appropriate' friend for Frodo have been put to rest. Trust Bilbo to provide just the right amount of encouragement!  
  
Aratlithiel1 - Sam sometimes pays more heed to his old hidebound gaffer than he should, eh? And Bilbo. What would any of us do without him?  
  
Amelia Rose - Sam is the biggest sweetie in Middle Earth. Frodo saved Lotho from Bilbo's wrath by not laying out the whole tale, and Lotho called his mother off in return. Unfortunately, things may not be as comfy as they seem. There is still the matter of a certain inheritance to be discussed, and we all know what that means.  
  
QTPie2488 - We'll have the adoption finalized in this chapter, but there's still one more to go. Bilbo has some news to break to the Sackville - Bagginses regarding an inheritance! And yes, Rushford Bramblethorn will be up to his old tricks in a new story, "A Harvest of Ashes". I warn you, though, he's worse than ever, and the story will well deserve the R rating I now plan to give it. (Author cringing...)  
  
Anime Princess4 - The boys are rescued, and you don't have to pound Lotho now!  
  
Endymion2 - I will have further development of Lotho and Frodo's tentative truce in the final chapter. Lobelia has to go and be a pain in the butt, doesn't she?  
  
Iorhael - History does show that Lotho never really gets it, sadly.   
  
Tavion - Your apprehensive feeling about Lotho and Frodo's truce is right on the money. More on that in the final chapter, but right now, we have reason to celebrate!  
  
Illyria Pffyffin - More conflict? The last chapter will definitely be for you. Even patient Frodo has his breaking point, and Lotho will be pushing it! Your fiery Frodo awaits, but we've got a party to attend in this chapter.  
  
Chapter 21 - Celebration  
  
  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
"Frodo! Frodo!" Merry's voice rang out in the courtyard and almost before Bilbo and Frodo made it through the gate a whirlwind of blonde curls and enthusiasm collided with them. Merry almost knocked Frodo to the ground with his effusive greeting, and Esmeralda and Saradoc followed a short distance behind at a more dignified pace.   
  
"Bilbo, good to see you again," Saradoc said as he clasped the older hobbit's hand warmly. Bilbo kissed Esmeralda's hand gallantly as Saradoc greeted Frodo. "Is it my imagination, or are you bigger than you used to be?" During his and Merry's visit to Hobbiton in the winter, Saradoc had been too preoccupied with Frodo's illness to notice how the lad had grown.   
  
Frodo grinned. "I've stretched, it seems," he answered, acknowledging his new height. "Perhaps by Yule I'll be as tall as you are." Another inch or so, and Frodo would indeed stand eye to eye with the Master of Buckland.   
  
Frodo noticed that the last few months had added to Merry's physical stature as well. His younger cousin seemed less gangly than before, and had left behind some of the awkwardness of pre - tween motion and mannerisms. Before he could think further on the subject, he was again assailed by a young hobbit, a smaller one with a wide grin and cinnamon - brown curls.   
  
"Cousin Frodo, it's been such a very long time since I've seen you," a voice lilted lightly in the courtyard. Peregrin Took looked up at his cousin happily, and Merry mussed his hair.   
  
"Pippin?" Frodo said, feigning uncertainty as to the lad's identity. "You're right. The last time I saw you, you were half the size you are now." But no less energetic, thought Frodo fondly. "How long have you been here?"  
  
"We got here last week," Pippin said quickly. "My whole family is here, even my sisters," he said with a rueful tone. "But Merry keeps me from being bored by them all the time, don't you, Merry?"  
  
Merry gave Frodo a wry grin. Pippin wasn't too much trouble, young as he was, but Merry had a sudden flash of insight into how it must have been for Frodo from time to time, with younger cousins clamoring for his attention. "I keep him out of trouble," he answered with a wink at Frodo.  
  
"I'll just bet you do." Frodo answered Merry's wink with one of his own. The day a young Brandybuck kept a young Took out of trouble would be a memorable day indeed, he reflected. More likely, Merry was teaching the younger lad all manner of terrible pranks that his sisters would come to regret later.   
  
"How was your trip Bilbo?" Esmeralda asked. "Hauled Frodo along for one of your long journeys afoot, I see," she teased.   
  
"I have not 'hauled' him anywhere, Esmie," Bilbo corrected good - naturedly. "He has hauled himself quite handily, and a good walk will benefit even the young from time to time." Frodo seemed to enjoy a journey on foot as much as his guardian, preferring to experience the feel of the ground beneath his feet rather than to ride in a wagon.   
  
Merry walked next to Frodo, and watched him out the corner of his eye. He had been worried that Lotho might continue to trouble Frodo, but there was no sign of any physical injury or illness that Merry could see. Perhaps the situation had been resolved. "What about those Sackville - Bagginses?" Merry asked with a frown. "Are they still bothering you?"   
  
Frodo smiled at his cousin. "There are not many pleasantries exchanged between us, but no one is going out of their way to be unkind either," he answered. "It's rather an uneasy truce, but far better than open hostility."   
  
"Truce?" Merry frowned more deeply. "However did you manage anything of the kind?"  
  
"That is a long story, Merry, and I shall tell you every bit of it once we're settled," Frodo answered seriously, and Merry laughed.   
  
"Can I hear it too?" Pippin asked, staring up at Frodo hopefully. "I love stories, and you used to tell the best ones."   
  
"Frodo could tell you stories that would turn your ears inside out," Merry said with a grin at Pippin and a knowing glance at Frodo.   
  
"Yes, and I could have Aunt Eglantine and Uncle Pal turning me inside out as a result," Frodo said, laughing. "I'll tell you about the Sackville - Bagginses, Pippin. It's a harrowing tale in some places, but you're old enough to not be frightened by it, I suppose."  
  
Pippin looked indignant at the reference to his age. "I'm not a baby anymore, Frodo," he said imperiously. "And you used to tell me about dragons and trolls and things, you know. I wasn't scared of them, either."  
  
"No, you just hid under your bed because you liked it there," Merry teased mercilessly. "You're too big to hide under the bed now, so don't you go and try it, Pip."   
  
The procession continued through the courtyard and on into Brandy Hall, where Frodo and Bilbo were settled into their rooms in time for tea. The Hall was as busy and bustling as Frodo remembered, perhaps more so as guests arrived for the Forelithe celebration. The coming of mid - year was as good a reason to have a gathering as any, and the summer weather usually proved to support the theory.   
  
"We're all going to have tea together in Sara and Esmie's private parlor, Frodo," Bilbo informed the tween as he unpacked a few items from his bag. "Best get yourself tidied up properly and shake the dust of the road from those feet," he instructed. He pulled a parchment scroll from his bag and hurriedly tucked it inside his weskit.  
  
Frodo had seen the surreptitious motion, and he smiled. Feigning innocence, he replied, "Yes, Uncle. I suppose I shall have to make a respectable appearance, after all."   
  
As Frodo stepped into the next room to wash up, Bilbo withdrew the scroll from inside his weskit and examined it carefully. The words were neatly written, the language formal and official.   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
On this 24th day of Forelithe, in the year of 1390, Shire Reckoning, I, Bilbo Baggins do hereby adopt Frodo Baggins and become his legal guardian. I will care for him through times of illness and good health, and will provide for his needs be they physical or emotional. I accept responsibility for his well - being for as long as he shall reside in my care.  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
  
The document provided space for Bilbo to sign his name as Frodo's new guardian, and space for Saradoc to sign as his former. There were also spaces for seven witnesses to sign.   
  
Bilbo tucked the scroll back into its former place and withdrew another from his pack. He examined it with a critical eye, making sure he had left nothing unsaid. The scroll contained his new will, and would be properly witnessed as well as the adoption notice. He had left everything to Frodo. What Frodo decided to do with his inheritance was his to decide when the time came.   
  
Bilbo sighed and smiled in satisfaction as he tucked the second scroll into his weskit alongside the first. He had been hard pressed to conceal his excitement during the past few weeks as he awaited this day with great anticipation. One last reach into the pack produced a small bottle of red ink, tightly corked to prevent leakage. Saradoc should have some ready at hand as well, but one couldn't be too thorough in one's planning.  
  
Several times he had wondered if Frodo suspected something. The boy was as sharp as needles, as he ought to be. After all, he was a Baggins, wasn't he? Frodo had shown no sign that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary besides a mid - year gathering with family.   
  
Bilbo started at the sound of a voice behind him as Frodo re - entered the room. "Uncle? Are you all right?" Frodo stood at Bilbo's side. "You're awfully quiet."  
  
"Just thinking, my boy," Bilbo said evenly, regarding Frodo with a look of approval. "You look much less the dusty traveler now, I must say."   
  
"And just what do I look like, Uncle?" Frodo said teasingly.   
  
"You look like the best thing that ever happened to a silly old hobbit," Bilbo said quietly, his eyes misting over. "Never forget that I love you with all my heart, Frodo, lad," the elder hobbit said as he embraced the tween.   
  
"I won't forget, Uncle," Frodo said softly, returning the embrace. "And I love you too."   
  
~*~  
  
"Stop squirming, Pippin, and let Frodo tell us his story," Merry chided as he nudged his younger cousin.   
  
At the mention of a tale to come, Pippin did as he was told and focused his attention solely on Frodo. The parlor was quite filled with hobbits, as all of the Master's immediate family and that of the Thain were present. Tooks and Brandybucks listened with bated breath as Frodo told of being trapped in the cave - in with Lotho.   
  
"Weren't you scared?" Pippin said at one point, looking at Frodo with admiration.   
  
"Yes, Pippin, I was," Frodo answered, giving his younger cousin a kind look. "It was very dark and we never knew from one moment to the next if more of the roof was going to fall in on us."   
  
"And of all the people to be trapped with," Merry exclaimed, shaking his head. "You had to be stuck there with Lotho!" He said the name as if it were a word he would be soundly thrashed for using in the presence of women and children. "Come, Frodo. Tell the truth. Did he really go in to warn you?"  
  
Frodo thought of how to answer Merry's question. Bilbo was also listening, and Frodo had told him only what was necessary, keeping the real truth to himself. "Yes, Merry. He did indeed mean to warn me," Frodo said. "Of course, his effort was in vain," Frodo continued with a smile. Lotho's efforts had indeed been in vain, all of them.   
  
"And he broke his leg, too?" Pippin chirped, wondering what such a thing felt like. "Was it terribly painful?"  
  
"Yes, I imagine it was," Frodo said simply. "He recovered well enough, although he made the most of it while he could." Lotho had been allowed to trade in his splint and crutches for a simple cane after a few weeks, and limped about Hobbiton attracting the curious questions of a few lasses as he did so. He never failed to tell them how he had been hurt trying to save his foolish cousin, who, by the way, was frightened to near uselessness at the time.   
  
Knowing smiles and chuckles passed around the room as everyone present who was acquainted with the Sackville - Bagginses was able to easily imagine Lotho's opportunistic attempts to use his injury as a means of getting some female attention. It would be just like that young snip.   
  
"Has anything else happened since then?" Saradoc asked with concern. It had never come to light whether Lotho had been to blame for any of the troubles Frodo had encountered in his first few months of residence at Bag End.   
  
"Somehow Frodo has managed to escape his cousin's notice lately," Bilbo said with a sharp glance at Frodo, who betrayed nothing of his thoughts. "I think there's more to the story than the version we've been told, but I have yet to succeed in prying it from the boy."   
  
Frodo shrugged and sipped his tea. "The details mean little, for the outcome was good," he reasoned. "Lotho and I understand a few things about each other now. I don't think he's anything to worry about," Frodo said, echoing the words he had spoken to Bilbo following the events he had told of.   
  
A soft tapping on the door stemmed the tide of questions, and Frodo sipped his tea in relief.   
  
Saradoc gave Bilbo a sharp look and Bilbo nodded. The Master of Buckland opened the door of the private parlor to admit none other than the Mayor, Will Whitfoot, and along with him, Rory and Merrimac Brandybuck, Farmer Maggot of the Marish, Gordo Goodbody, the healer from Hobbiton, and Odo Proudfoot. As Frodo looked up, Bilbo stood and cleared his throat.   
  
"Now that we are all assembled, I have an announcement to make," Bilbo stated calmly, his eyes never leaving Frodo's. "I have gathered all of you here, along with these other fine gentlehobbits - " Bilbo gestured to the group who had just entered the room, and Farmer Maggot gave an amused snort at hearing himself referred to as a gentle hobbit - "to witness an important event." Always one to speak gravely and dramatically at such times, Bilbo paused, then continued. "Two important events, I should say," he corrected himself.   
  
"Merry, what's happening?" Pippin whispered to his cousin.   
  
"Hush, Pip!" Merry said. "You'll see!"  
  
Bilbo reached into his weskit and drew out the two scrolls. "I have drawn up two documents. This one is a declaration of adoption." Bilbo spread the scroll out flat on a table and pinned the ends down with books so everyone could see what was written on the page. "Frodo, if you consent to the arrangement, I wish to formally adopt you." He looked at Frodo fondly. "What say you, lad?"  
  
Frodo did a reasonably convincing job of looking surprised. He had known about Bilbo's plan to adopt him due to Lotho's divulging the information, but he had wondered who Bilbo would call upon to witness the documents. Pretending that he was absorbing the information for the first time, rose to his feet. "I'm - that is," Frodo stammered. "Well, yes, I consent!" Light laughter floated around the room at the obvious joy in Frodo's words and expression.   
  
Paladin Took and Saradoc Brandybuck rose and stood by Bilbo's side as Frodo and Mayor Whitfoot joined them. Saradoc signed the first line, relinquishing his role as Frodo's legal guardian, and Bilbo signed the second, accepting the responsibility. The other adult male hobbits assembled signed as witnesses. Bilbo was pleased to note that Saradoc had indeed remembered the red ink required by legal tradition.  
  
"The second of these documents is my Last Will and Testament," Bilbo told the hobbits assembled in the parlor. "Frodo shall be my heir," Bilbo said simply. "At such time that I may leave you all, he will inherit Bag End and all else I own." The scroll was flattened out on the table just as the first had been, and Bilbo signed it with a flourish. The quill was handed around again as the signatures of the witnesses were added.   
  
Pippin watched the proceedings with wide eyes, and Merry with a huge grin. It was nigh on time for something good to happen to Frodo, he thought gladly. Nobody else Merry could think of deserved such good fortune as his elder cousin.   
  
"Does this mean Frodo is going to stay in Hobbiton?" Pippin asked.   
  
"Yes, Pip. Frodo is going to stay with Uncle Bilbo in Hobbiton from now on." Merry found that he was still smiling, despite confirmation that Frodo would not be coming back to Brandy Hall to stay.   
  
"We can visit him, can't we?" Pippin asked, hope shining in his eyes. Hobbiton seemed like such a long way off to him.   
  
"I don't know, Pip," Merry said as a mischievous gleam stole into his eyes. "Uncle Bilbo might not be too keen on you turning his smial upside down." He poked at Pippin playfully and Pippin scowled at him.   
  
"You're just teasing me, Merry! Uncle Bilbo likes me, you know." Pippin poked Merry in return.   
  
"Of course I like you, Peregrin," Bilbo said, giving Merry a look of mock warning. "And you may visit Frodo any time your family agrees to let you out of their sight."   
  
"You can take him with you when you leave here," Pervinca suggested hopefully. Pippin kicked her.   
  
"Enough, you two," Eglantine Took said as she separated them. "This is hardly the time or place for your antics."  
  
Frodo turned from watching his younger cousins and found himself face to face with Farmer Maggot. He blushed furiously, remembering his ill - fated foray into Maggot's mushroom beds. It was plain by the farmer's words that he remembered the incident too. "Good mushrooms 'round Hobbiton, I hear," Farmer Maggot remarked with a raised eyebrow. As Frodo's blush deepened, Maggot broke into a grin and ruffled the lad's hair as if Frodo were still Pippin's age. "I'm sure you've outgrown such pastimes as farm raiding?"   
  
"Yes, sir!" Frodo remarked with alacrity and shook the hand offered by the farmer.   
  
Next to congratulate Frodo was Master Goodbody. "I've seen you more off your feet than on them lately, lad, and that has got to stop!" he exclaimed dramatically, eliciting a chuckle from Frodo. "Seriously, Frodo, it is good to see you healthy and unscathed. Let us hope you keep yourself so."  
  
"I promise to do my best, sir," Frodo responded, smiling.   
  
The Mayor was shaking hands with Saradoc, and then turned to shake Frodo's also. "Hobbiton is fortunate in the addition of a young gentlehobbit like yourself to its population," Mayor Whitfoot said, giving Frodo a grin.   
  
"Thank you sir," Frodo responded politely. Although others were waiting to congratulate him, he suddenly found himself feeling as though the walls of the room were drawing in upon him. He had known all of this was going to happen, but the reality of it had left him rather stunned nonetheless. The arrangement of his living at Bag End no longer felt temporary, but carried a new certainty, a new solidity. He felt suddenly overwhelmed and struggled to hold back tears.   
  
Bilbo noticed the shift in Frodo's emotional balance and excused himself and Frodo for a moment. They stepped into another room and Bilbo closed the door behind them. "Do you need a moment, Frodo?" he asked quietly.   
  
"I - I just - " Frodo's fight to maintain his composure was lost and he embraced Bilbo tearfully. "I'm so happy," he explained. "I'd forgotten what it feels like to - to belong somewhere."  
  
"You've always been loved, Frodo, wherever you were," Bilbo told him. "Even here at Brandy Hall."  
  
"Yes, I know," Frodo said softly. "But something was missing ever since my parents died." He looked at the floor for a moment. "I always knew that people here loved me, but I didn't feel that I really belonged here. I was here because, well because there was no other choice at the time. I wasn't here because someone wanted me to be here."  
  
Bilbo thought he understood what Frodo was trying to say. "It's not the same, is it, lad?" he asked. "At least not from where you're standing."  
  
"No, it isn't," Frodo confirmed. "It's not the same as hearing someone say, 'I want you to be here and I choose to have you here'."  
  
"Well, I have chosen to have you at Bag End, Frodo," Bilbo told him firmly. "And as long as you wish to stay there, you may. No one will come and tell you that you have to go anywhere else or do anything that you don't wish to do."   
  
"I'll be home," Frodo said, raising his gaze to Bilbo's. "I'll really be home," he said again, savoring the sound of the words.   
  
"Yes, Frodo." Bilbo smiled and smoothed the lapels of Frodo's weskit. "Now we had both better compose ourselves, for we've a crowd of congratulatory relations and friends awaiting us," he suggested with a nod toward the door. "And unless I miss my guess, the Master of the Hall and his lovely wife have prepared quite a celebration in honor of this event. No ordinary mid - year, this."   
  
"No, Uncle. It's anything but ordinary, indeed," Frodo answered as he placed a hand on the doorknob and stopped. "Your choice of Forelithe as the time was well made," he remarked, looking at Bilbo for affirmation.  
  
"Of course, lad," Bilbo said with a grin. "Brandy Hall was bound to be teeming with hobbits of notable status. There could be no better time or place to find a proper compliment of witnesses to sign our important documents!"   
  
Frodo and Bilbo rejoined the group in the parlor, and there was much hugging and congratulatory back - slapping. The celebration eventually moved into the main Hall and the courtyard, as afternoon became evening. Hobbits danced, sang and enjoyed a delicious feast, celebrating the arrival of mid - year and the hope that the rest of the year would be just as pleasant and prosperous as the first half had been. It was a weary, but very happy Frodo Baggins who tumbled into bed sometime after midnight, to drift away into pleasant dreams.   
  
~*~To be continued~*~ 


	22. Confrontations and Resolutions

~*~  
  
Author's note - Thanks very much to all of you who have been reading this story and its predecessor. It's been wonderful to hear from you, and I hope you'll stay around for my next story, "A Harvest of Ashes". It's part of the Rushford Bramblethorn series, and for those of you who haven't met the villain, you can find him lurking in the chapters of "In Safekeeping" and "The Way of Vengeance". A word of caution, however. "Harvest" will be the darkest of the series to date. It will be rated R and with good reason. It contains violence and slash, some of it non - consensual, though nothing overtly graphic. (R being the highest rating allowed at ff.net, this was necessarily the case.) To those of you who are established Bramblefans, welcome back! If any of you choose not to read the new fic, I will understand. Peace!  
  
-Marilyn Bradford  
  
~*~  
  
Amelia Rose - Happy place, indeed! In this final chapter, we'll establish what comes of Lotho and Frodo's relationship in the future.  
  
Endymion2 - I don't think I'd be able to get along with Lotho either. This chapter has me pretty well decided on that!  
  
Shirebound - Still a happy ending to come, but we'll have to get through a little more angst to get there.   
  
Aratlithiel1 - Frodo is deserving of all the good things that come his way, especially when you consider all that is yet to come in his life.   
  
Bookworm2000 - The Sackville - Bagginses will be quite displeased, as you'll see in this final chapter.  
  
FrodoBaggins1982 - I agree that judging from the book, Farmer Maggot might have been an odd addition to the group gathered to witness the events in Buckland, but I couldn't resist. The opportunity for the barb about the mushrooms was just too tempting, especially given the role mushrooms have played in the story so far! I was also having a hard time digging up influential hobbits to sign that will! I will not be using the same 'storytelling' technique I used in "On the Banks of the Brandywine." This one is just straight up Once upon a time fic.  
  
Anime Princess4 - I'm sure you'll find plenty of enjoyable Frodo fic once this one is finished, but I'm very glad you came by to read it!  
  
Iorhael - Bilbo and Frodo are off to the start of something good, absolutely.   
  
Pebbles - Wait no longer. You'll see what happens with Otho and Lobelia in this chapter. I'm sorry to see it end too, since I had such a good time with it.  
  
Illyria - pffyffin - I think that Otho and Lobelia will always regard Bilbo with contempt, certainly. They wouldn't dare try to do anything untoward to him though. I think they're kind of intimidated by him on some levels.  
  
Girlofring1 - Glad you came by and have enjoyed these stories. There is so much time that elapses in Frodo's life before the quest that there have to be some stories in there!   
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
Chapter 22 - Confrontations and Resolutions  
  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~   
  
~*~Bag End, evening~*~  
  
Bilbo sighed and sank into his armchair contentedly. The trip home from Buckland had been a long walk for him and Frodo, but the lad seemed to enjoy every step, never once complaining of being weary or footsore. A true Baggins, if one ever lived, Bilbo surmised proudly.   
  
Frodo was out in the garden telling Sam about the trip and enjoying the lovely evening, and Bilbo rose to look out the window at the two boys. He frowned as he considered the next task at hand, and whether he wanted Frodo to be present for it. The Sackville - Bagginses must be informed of Frodo's adoption and of the lad's status as Bilbo's heir. It would undoubtedly be an unpleasant scene, and would be excruciating for someone of Frodo's sensibilities to endure.   
  
Bilbo found himself wishing that Frodo had some of Lotho's hardness in him at times. If the boy had just a pinch of mistrust or suspicion in his nature, he might be better able to deal with his nasty relatives. But perhaps Frodo did have something, not a hard or cold streak like Lotho's, but more of a natural resilience that would carry him through difficult situations. Even so, Bilbo decided he would spare Frodo the confrontation with the Sackville - Bagginses. It had been Bilbo's decision to make Frodo his sole heir, and Bilbo would deal with the consequences of that decision himself.   
  
~*~The next morning~*~  
  
"Frodo," Bilbo called, frowning slightly. Where had that boy gone to? "Frodo," he called again, this time leaning out the window and shouting the young hobbit's name.   
  
Outside on the garden bench, Frodo's head snapped up and his gaze left the page he had been reading. He closed the book and stood up, answering Bilbo's call. "I'm out here, Uncle."   
  
Bilbo emerged from the smial and strode over to the bench. "Nothing like a good book and some sunshine after second breakfast, is there, my boy?" He said in his most cheerful voice. Frodo smiled and nodded. "I'm going out for a short while, and I just wanted you to know in case you should come looking for me. I've an errand or two to tend to."  
  
"Would you like some company?" Frodo suggested. "I could go with you if you like."  
  
Bilbo tried to keep from fidgeting. "No, no, lad. Don't allow me to interrupt what you're doing. You've better things to do today than traipse about Hobbiton with me on boring business."   
  
Frodo eyed him suspiciously, but nodded. "If you'd rather I didn't - "  
  
"Now, Frodo, don't give me that look, lad," Bilbo said, giving Frodo a pat on the back. "It's not that I don't want your company, but I'll not be gone long or be doing anything of interest to a tweenager. There's no reason for you to stop in the middle of a good book on a pleasant morning."  
  
  
  
Bilbo spoke with sincerity, and Frodo let the matter drop. "Very well, Uncle. I'll read on then while you go about your 'boring' errand."   
  
"I shall be back soon, Frodo," Bilbo said as he rose from the bench and made his way down the path.   
  
Frodo watched him go with a puzzled look on his face. Bilbo was hiding something, Frodo was certain. A rueful smile came to the lad's face as he thought. Why not, he reasoned. Hadn't Frodo kept part of the truth to himself regarding the incident at Empty Row? If Frodo could keep his secrets, it was Bilbo's right to do so as well, and Frodo wouldn't take it personally. He resumed his seat on the bench and picked up the book again.  
  
~*~  
  
Bilbo rapped on the door smartly and waited. He wasn't entirely sure if he had been dreading this moment or looking forward to it with perverse glee. Part of him had been waiting impatiently for the chance to see the Sackville - Bagginses looking shocked and dismayed as they discovered that Bag End was not to be theirs after all. Another part of him disliked confrontation of any kind and disliked the notion that it was, in this case, necessary.   
  
Otho opened the door and regarded Bilbo with a surprised look. "Bilbo! What brings you here?" he asked, his voice sounding pleasant, but guarded.   
  
"I've a matter of some importance to discuss with all of you, and I ask your pardon for the intrusion," Bilbo said calmly as Otho admitted him.   
  
"Please sit down, Bilbo." Otho offered his guest a chair as Lobelia entered the room. When she saw Bilbo, her face scrunched up with a look of disdain.   
  
"Have you come to apologize for the beastly accusations you've made against my son?" she asked, standing with her hands on her hips.   
  
"I have not," Bilbo responded simply. "But I do wish to speak to you. All of you," he elaborated, giving Lobelia a pointed look.   
  
Lobelia opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again and turned from the room. She emerged into the parlor again a moment later with Lotho. "We are all here, Bilbo, so have your say," she said as she and Lotho seated themselves.   
  
Bilbo rose to his feet and regarded his small audience. Might as well come to the point, he reasoned. Whether he sugar - coated it or not, what he had to say would be anything but well - received. "I am here to discuss with you the matter of my Will. I have made a decision that I wish everyone to be informed of in no uncertain terms."  
  
All eyes were on the elderly hobbit as he paced back and forth. Niether Otho nor Lobelia saw their son's face drain of all color, as they were watching Bilbo closely.   
  
This was it, Lotho thought dully. The announcement he had been dreading, the end to dreams of living in the finest smial in Hobbiton as a wealthy gentlehobbit.   
  
"I have decided," Bilbo began as he eyed his relations, "that Bag End and all else I own will pass to Frodo when I am gone."   
  
For the merest fraction of a moment, all sound and motion in the room was suspended. The silence was broken as Otho spoke disbelievingly. "What did you say?" He blinked and stared at Bilbo, hoping he had misheard him.   
  
"You heard me, Otho," Bilbo countered evenly. "For years, you have kept in contact with me for the sole purpose of your own personal gain." He shot a sharp look at Lobelia who somehow managed to swallow whatever comment was attempting to burst from her mouth. "You have all, without exception, dreamed of little more than getting your hands on my home and whatever treasures you imagine to be hidden there. Never once have you paid a visit to me for any other reason than to discern whether or not I was on the verge of my death."  
  
"That - that's not true!" Lobelia finally found her voice. "Why, years ago when you disappeared so suddenly - "  
  
"When I took my unexpected journey, you and yours were crawling all over Bag End in the flutter of a moth's wing," Bilbo cut her off acerbically. "I returned to find my home being dismembered by my greedy relations, who, I might add, showed not a whit of gladness for my safe arrival."   
  
Lobelia felt anger and indignation beginning to rise within her. Here was Bilbo Baggins, standing in her parlor and speaking so rudely to her and her family! It was not to be borne. And Frodo! How under the stars could the old hobbit leave all his property to that Bucklander? "I don't have to listen to this!" Lobelia screeched. "You've done it just to spite us! You're just being hateful, leaving everything to that scrawny Brandybuck - "  
  
Bilbo was beyond any attempt to be pleasant. "His name," he growled, "is Baggins." He caught Lobelia's gaze and held it with his own. "Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo and Primula Baggins. Yes, he has the blood of the Brandybuck line flowing through his veins, and the Tooks as well. That alone should be enough to tell you something about him."  
  
"I'll tell you something about him!" Lobelia was raging now, her temper entirely lost. Otho was still stunned by the news of Bilbo's choice of an heir, and Lotho sat back, watching the scene rather miserably. "He's a pathetic excuse for a hobbit of any sort, let alone a gentlehobbit!" Lobelia stood directly in front of Bilbo, striking out verbally at the absent heir to his fortune. "He may bear the name of Baggins by whatever accident fate allowed, but he's a useless little worm with an improper upbringing!"  
  
Bilbo's face had reddened and his breath was coming in short gasps. If it had been a male hobbit standing before him speaking so of Frodo, Bilbo would have flattened the culprit in the space of a half second. "That is quite enough," he hissed through clenched teeth.   
  
"It is not enough!" Lobelia shouted at him. "It will never be enough!" She drew back her hand and slapped Bilbo as hard as she could. Her anger spent in a single burst of speech and action, she swooned and crumpled. Lotho leapt up from his seat just in time to catch her.   
  
"Please leave. Now." Otho spoke as if to the room at large, not looking at Bilbo but staring vacantly into nothing.   
  
"As you wish," Bilbo answered, his face still stinging from the slap. "You must come to terms with the situation, Otho. It's of your own making." Bilbo turned to leave and a sudden smile lit his face. "I'm oft referred to about Hobbiton as 'Mad Baggins,' as I'm sure you're aware." He turned to look at each of his relations in turn as he spoke. "Perhaps it's a result of that supposed madness that brings such thoughts to my mind, but it strikes me as quite just and right that Frodo should inherit my wealth. You see," Bilbo explained, "he has never sought it. Not in the least. Frodo has sought only one sort of wealth, the riches of warmth, love and happiness. If he were to have nothing more in his life, he would be quite thoroughly pleased. All of you have ignored these good things and come grasping after the physical property of others. You have ignored the very things that make life worth living, journeys and risks worth taking. You have missed the truth that has stood plainly before you."  
  
Bilbo turned away and opened the door. "Yes, I think it fitting that I should give my all to one who has never sought it. Better that than to those who have sought it to the exclusion of all else." He had said all he had come to say, and it was plain that nobody else had anything more to say to him at the moment. Silence and cold stares followed the elderly hobbit as he let himself out of the smial, closed the door behind him, and walked somberly down the path.   
  
~*~  
  
Frodo jumped as the door clicked in the latch. He had been in a state of growing anxiety since Bilbo's departure. It wasn't Bilbo's way to avoid Frodo's company, even for a short span of time. When Bilbo had insisted on going about his errands alone, Frodo had been unable to banish the feeling that something wasn't right. His fears were confirmed as Frodo saw Bilbo come into the parlor with an angry red mark on his face.   
  
"Uncle! What is it? What's happened?" Frodo looked at Bilbo with dismay.  
  
"I have just broken the news of your adoption to the Sackville - Bagginses," Bilbo declared. "Lobelia was less than impressed by it," he added as he rubbed absently at his reddened cheek.   
  
Frodo said nothing but dashed out past his guardian to the pump in the garden with a clean cloth in his hand. He soaked it with cold well water and brought it back inside, holding it up to Bilbo's face and dabbing gently. "She struck you!" he said disbelievingly.   
  
"That she did, Frodo," Bilbo admitted. "And I may well have deserved it, for I must say I was not entirely pained at having to tell them. They deserve what they've received, and nothing more."   
  
"This is my fault," Frodo said miserably. "If I hadn't come to Hobbiton none of this would have happened."  
  
"If you hadn't come to Hobbiton, Frodo, I would be just a lonely, eccentric old hobbit with no one to care for him, and you would be in a place where you felt overlooked and unable to let the light within you shine as brightly as it deserves." Bilbo laid his hand over Frodo's. "The unpleasantness with the Sackville - Bagginses has been going on since before you were born, lad. You mustn't take on so about things you cannot change."  
  
"I suppose not," Frodo answered, his eyes downcast.   
  
~*~Evening~*~  
  
Lotho ordered another ale. He had long since lost track of how many he had consumed, as his thoughts were occupied only by the events of the day and by the one who had surely been responsible for them. Frodo must have told Bilbo everything. How else could all of this be explained?   
  
He could imagine the scene at Forelithe vividly. In his mind's eye, he could see Frodo smirking and telling Bilbo everything that Lotho had done to him over the past few months. The little rat had probably even made up a few stories to add fuel to the fire.   
  
Lotho looked around the room, expecting to find all eyes on him, judging him a fool and his family unworthy. Let them look all they wanted, he thought angrily as he raised his tankard. They hadn't been there. They hadn't heard Bilbo's words or seen the expressions on Lotho's parents' faces.   
  
Otho was still sitting at home, deeply depressed and staring at the same page of a book he'd been attempting to read for hours. Lobelia, once recovered from her swoon, had dosed herself with her sleeping powder and retired to her room. Lotho had been too angry to sit at home in a catatonic state or to seek the oblivion of sleep, so he had stalked out and made for the Ivy Bush, where he had spent the better part of the day drinking and brooding miserably.   
  
Ale after ale he had taken to dull the pain he felt and to try to drive the image of Frodo from his mind. He tipped his tankard again, all the while wishing he'd never heard of Frodo Baggins.   
  
~*~  
  
Frodo walked down the path, kicking at a small stone. The emotional turmoil of the day had left him restless, and he had decided to walk off some of the effects. It was a pleasant evening, at least, and the scent of the flowers in the garden drifted by on a breeze to soothe him. He was so absorbed in the trajectory of the stone as it bounced off his foot, he didn't hear Sam calling to him from a short distance away.   
  
"Mr. Frodo? Mr. Frodo, is something wrong?" Sam was slightly out of breath as he hurried to catch up with Frodo.   
  
"Sam, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention," Frodo admitted, still eyeing the rock. "It's been a trying day."  
  
"What happened?" Sam asked simply, doing his best to match his stride to Frodo's.  
  
"Uncle Bilbo told Lotho and his family about my adoption and his decision that I should be his heir." Frodo spoke softly, glancing at Sam. "They didn't take the news very well, I'm afraid."  
  
Sam's brow creased as he frowned. "I don't reckon they did, Mr. Frodo," he acknowledged. "I'm glad they won't get Bag End. They don't deserve to, noways."  
  
"They would say the same of me, I'm afraid." Frodo sighed. "It's so frustrating, Sam. Bilbo has tried, and so have I. They're determined to hate us, and I suppose we can't change their minds."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied, pained at seeing Frodo so distressed. "But that's their trouble, if you follow me. 'Tisn't your fault or Mr. Bilbo's if they want to be nasty."  
  
Frodo gave Sam a small smile. "I know, Sam. But knowing doesn't make it any easier. Family members should try to behave more kindly toward each other."  
  
Frodo and Sam continued to make their way along the path, talking as they went. Sam changed the subject and asked about the Forelithe celebrations at Brandy Hall, and Frodo's mood brightened as he told of the dancing and the feast. Their steps took them past the Ivy Bush, just as none other than Lotho Sackville - Baggins stumbled through the heavy wooden doors and into the path ahead.   
  
Frodo stopped in his tracks and Sam looked up to see Lotho, weaving unsteadily and fixing them with a gaze so cold it drove the warmth from the summer evening. There was no mistaking the anger and hatred in those eyes, and Sam looked from Lotho to Frodo anxiously.   
  
Frodo steadied himself and spoke. "Good evening, Cousin."  
  
"Good evening?" Lotho slurred. "No, I think not. Not for some of us at least." Lotho was staring at Frodo with narrowed eyes and a sneer on his face.  
  
"Mr. Frodo, let's go," Sam whispered, grabbing Frodo's arm and trying to turn him back the way they had come.   
  
Lotho may have been quite drunk, but he didn't miss the gesture. "Oh, no you don't," he growled as he stumbled toward the two younger hobbits. "C'mere!" Lotho reached out and grabbed Frodo's other arm in a painful grip.   
  
"Let go!" Frodo exclaimed, looking his cousin in the eye.   
  
Sam was near to losing his temper when he saw Lotho lay his hands on Frodo. He let go of Frodo's other arm and leapt forward, kicking Lotho squarely in the shin. "You leave him be!"   
  
Frodo was surprised by the sudden change in Sam's demeanor. Gone was the shy, self - effacing young gardener, replaced by a stout - hearted, though young hobbit, determined to protect his best friend.  
  
Lotho lost interest in Frodo momentarily as his attention refocused on Sam. "You little - " Lotho moved with a speed that was astonishing considering his condition. He grabbed the front of Sam's shirt and raised his hand, preparing to strike the young lad. "Just can't stay in your proper place, can you?"   
  
Frodo inserted himself between the two and grabbed the hand that Lotho held poised over Sam. "I think you can't stay in yours, Cousin," Frodo said evenly. "Let go of Sam and go home. You're drunk."  
  
"Of course I'm drunk, you little worm," Lotho snarled as he released Sam. "I had the privilege of hearing that Bilbo has indeed made you his heir. You, of all people." The tween laughed bitterly. "You showed up out of the blue and ruined everything for me and my family!" Lotho had taken hold of Frodo's arm again and dug his fingers in. "You told him, didn't you? You just couldn't keep it to yourself!"  
  
Sam stepped forward again with a mixture of concern and confusion in his expression. "What're you talkin' about?" he shouted at Lotho.   
  
"The future Master of Bag End here told Bilbo all about how I was trying to 'persuade' him to go back where he came from," Lotho said nastily.   
  
"I told him nothing," Frodo said angrily as he tried to break Lotho's grip on his arm. "Do you think Uncle Bilbo is stupid? He suspected you long before anyone else thought to, and he cautioned me to stay away from you. I wish I'd listened to him!" Frodo's eyes flashed as he regarded his elder cousin.   
  
Sam drew back his leg to kick Lotho again, but a look from Frodo stilled him. "No, Sam. I appreciate your wanting to help, but this isn't your problem."  
  
"Can't fight your own battles, Frodo?" Lotho said, leering nastily. "Got to have your little half - grown servant protect you?"   
  
"From you? Never!" Frodo put all his strength into a mighty shove that put Lotho off balance and nearly toppled him. The escalating confrontation had begun to attract the attention of a few passers by, and more hobbits began to drift out of the Ivy Bush to watch.   
  
Lotho steadied himself with some difficulty and charged at Frodo, intending to thrash him soundly. "I couldn't get rid of you, but I'm going to knock you into the dirt, rat!" He swung at Frodo, and Frodo ducked the blow.   
  
"Leave off, Lotho! You're making a scene!" Frodo said as he backed away a few steps. "Go home and sleep it off before you do something you'll regret."  
  
Sam struggled with his desire to jump in and pummel Lotho with all of his strength. He might be smaller than the tween, but Sam was quite sturdy for his age. But Frodo had forbidden him to enter the fray in no uncertain terms, and despite what Lotho had said, Sam knew his place. At least he had always thought he did. He should do as Mr. Frodo asked him, but how could he?   
  
Sam made a decision. If Frodo wouldn't let him have a shot at Lotho, he would find another way to help. No one seemed to notice as he slipped away from the crowd and turned to run as fast as he could back toward Bag End. Frodo had told Sam not to interfere himself, but he'd said nothing about Sam telling Bilbo.   
  
~*~  
  
"Mr. Bilbo!" Sam shouted as he approached the hill at top speed. "Mr. Bilbo, come quick!"  
  
Bilbo heard Sam's shouts through the window and opened the front door in answer. His graying head popped out and turned left, then right, and he spied Sam rushing toward him. "Samwise, has someone lit your breeches on fire?"  
  
"No, sir," Sam stammered, out of breath and gasping. "That is, Mr. Lotho - Mr. Frodo - "  
  
Bilbo placed his hands on Sam's shoulders to steady him. "What about Lotho and Frodo? Has that nasty whelp done something to my boy?" Bilbo's voice was filled with both fear and anger.   
  
"He's tryin' to, sir!" Sam said plaintively. "Mr. Frodo wouldn't let me help him, an' he said it isn't my problem, but it is! Anythin' bad that's happenin' to Mr. Frodo is my problem 'cause he's my friend," Sam said obstinately.   
  
"Where are they?" Bilbo asked as he stepped out the door and closed it behind him.   
  
"In front of the Ivy Bush. Lotho's real drunk an' he's real mad," Sam informed Bilbo.  
  
"Curse me, this is my fault," Bilbo berated himself as he hurried with Sam toward the site of the altercation. He told himself to remember how Frodo had handled the bullies back at Brandy Hall and that Frodo could stand up and take care of himself when he was put to it. Still, Bilbo wasn't about to sit back and leave Frodo to stand up against his older, larger cousin.   
  
It wasn't long before Sam and Bilbo could hear the sound of a disturbance ahead. He could hear the occasional shout of encouragement from the observers, and he quickened his pace as he heard the combatants arguing.  
  
"Lotho, if you don't stop this, you will be sorry, believe me," Frodo was saying as he dodged another of Lotho's attempts to punch him.   
  
"The only thing I 'm sorry for is not having just pounded you in the first place," Lotho shouted back. He swung again and missed, but this time his fingers brushed the front of Frodo's shirt and he caught it and held on.   
  
Frodo managed to block the next punch but not the one after. He reeled backward as Lotho's fist met his cheek. That was it for Frodo. Having been unable to talk his cousin into abandoning the fight, he now allowed himself the luxury of fury. The discussion was clearly over, and his eyes blazed with anger.   
  
Frodo turned and aimed a return volley at Lotho, catching him squarely in the jaw. He had given Lotho the chance to back off and his cousin had ignored it at his own risk. Frodo hadn't much practice at brawling since it had been a forbidden activity at Brandy Hall, but he had the clear advantage of sobriety as he faced Lotho.   
  
Lotho now pressed his only true advantage - his size. He bore down on Frodo, crashing into him and knocking him to the ground. Lotho held Frodo pinned beneath him and aimed a vicious backhand at Frodo's face. Frodo raised his hands to block it and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.   
  
Suddenly the pressure was gone, and when nothing struck him, Frodo opened his eyes to see Bilbo holding Lotho back with all his strength. The elderly hobbit had come up behind the tween and grabbed him in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides and dragging him backward and away from Frodo.  
  
A few cheers and mutters arose from the observers at this new development. Lotho recovered from his initial surprise and growled, "Let go of me, you doddering - "  
  
"Close that insolent mouth of yours, lad and listen to me very carefully," Bilbo said, using the most menacing tone of which he was capable. "Up until now, I could not prove you were attempting to harm Frodo, but now I have proof and many witnesses to your actions. You will never lay a hand on your cousin again, or you shall deal with me. If you think for one moment that I will not slap that smirk off your face, you are sadly mistaken!"  
  
Frodo was sitting up and staring at Bilbo with wide eyes. Bilbo's protectiveness had never been in any doubt, but Frodo had never seen Bilbo looking so angry. It was plain that Bilbo Baggins meant business.   
  
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam was at Frodo's side, trying to pull him to his feet. "I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo. You wouldn't let me help you so I told Mr. Bilbo. Are you angry?"  
  
"No, Sam, I'm not angry with you," Frodo said, still staring at his guardian and the tween in his grasp. "Thank you." Frodo looked up and accepted the hand Sam held out to him. He pulled himself up and dusted off his breeches.  
  
Lotho was snarling and trying to break out of Bilbo's grip to no avail. As Frodo approached, Lotho favored him with a cold look. "You got off easy this time, rat, but someday, I swear - "  
  
"Someday? Who knows, Lotho. Someday you might get the better of me, but not today. Not this way." Frodo had begun to calm himself now that he was no longer in immediate danger of a brutal thrashing.   
  
Bilbo turned Lotho in the opposite direction and released him with a hard shove. "Off with you, boy. Get yourself home before I drag you there myself and give your parents an account of your actions." Bilbo smiled inwardly. It was an idle threat and completely unnecessary for him to tell Otho and Lobelia about the fight, since word would travel swiftly enough to them through those who had observed the entire occurrence.   
  
Lotho stumbled a little, owing to the effects of the alcohol in his system and to the accuracy of Frodo's jab to his jaw. He turned and gave Frodo one last look of pure hatred, and ambled off toward home. Bilbo watched him go and shook his head sadly.   
  
"All right, everyone. The show is over now, so back to your ale then," Bilbo told the hobbits who had gathered to watch the battle. Bilbo waved them off, and they dispersed slowly.   
  
Frodo stood looking in the direction Lotho had taken. He cast a troubled gaze at Bilbo as the elder hobbit came to stand beside him. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I tried to avoid him, as you said."  
  
"I'm sure you did, Frodo. I apologize for my interference, but I couldn't bear the thought of that young beast laying hands on you." Bilbo eyed Frodo seriously. "I know that a lad your age must fight his own battles from time to time, and I got into a scrape or two myself when I was your age."  
  
"You did?" Frodo said incredulously, trying to imagine Bilbo brawling in a noisy pub or in the street. Why was it that Frodo could easily picture Bilbo facing down a giant spider in the forest of Mirkwood, but he couldn't see him trading punches with another hobbit?  
  
Frodo's tone brought a smile to Bilbo's face. "Oh yes, lad. Not as a general rule, you understand," he said sternly, trying to impress upon Frodo that fighting was to be avoided if possible. "It usually had something to do with a pretty lass, if memory serves." The smile returned, accompanied by a wry chuckle.   
  
It was Frodo's turn to smile, and he rubbed at his cheek ruefully. "Lotho may not be impressed with me, but I think he isn't up to defying you." It was true that not many hobbits of Bilbo's age still possessed the strength and forceful presence necessary to back down a young bully like Lotho.   
  
"And he had better not, my boy," Bilbo said, puffing his chest out proudly. "For I meant it when I said I would slap the smirk off his face myself should he trouble you again. If he's big enough to start a fight, he's big enough to take the consequences." Bilbo draped one arm over Frodo's shoulders and the other over Sam's as they turned for home.   
  
~*~  
  
Several weeks passed before Frodo saw Lotho again. Word had indeed made its way about Hobbiton regarding the fight, and Lotho was subjected to no small amount of ridicule for having been backed down by old Bilbo Baggins. Frodo passed Lotho on the street one day, but nothing more did Lotho give his cousin besides a very dirty look.   
  
Frodo, on the other hand, found that he was accorded a little more respect than he had been previously. The lads who had shouted suggestive insults at him a few months earlier near the mill pond bridge were silent as he passed them now, and he was getting to know more of the tweens about town. By September, Hobbiton and Bag End seemed as if they had always been home to Frodo.  
  
~*~September 22, 1390 S.R.~*~  
  
"Good morning, Frodo, lad, and happy birthday!" Bilbo enthused as he flung the shutters of Frodo's room wide to admit the cheerful sunshine.   
  
"And happy birthday to you also, Uncle," Frodo said rather sleepily as he rolled over and placed a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sudden brightness.   
  
"Well, are you going to lie abed all day or get ready for our birthday party?" Bilbo prodded the tween with a wink. "We've final preparations to make, my boy."  
  
"Yes Uncle," Frodo said and sat up. "I suppose we do at that." Frodo leaned over and pulled a small wrapped object out from under the bed. "This is for you, Uncle. I didn't want to wait until the party to give it you," Frodo said with a smile. "I hope you like it."   
  
Bilbo smiled and accepted the gift, at the same time producing something he had been holding behind his back all the while and handing it to Frodo. "And this is for you, lad."  
  
Frodo turned the item over in his hands. It was plainly a book of some sort, from its size and weight. Upon carefully removing the paper, he discovered that it was a book of historical tales of the Shire, one that Bilbo had owned for many years and that Frodo had thought looked very interesting. Its pages were yellowed with age, although the book itself was in otherwise perfect condition. On the inside was a faded inscription that read, 'To Bilbo Baggins, from Rorimac Brandybuck, 1320 S.R.'  
  
"Uncle Rory gave you this?" Frodo questioned, turning the book over in his hands gently.   
  
"Yes, my boy. On his eighteenth birthday. There are wonderful tales inside, and they are all true," Bilbo said, pointing at the book. "A fine history the Shire has, Frodo. The deeds of some of your ancestors are recorded here, among others."  
  
Frodo paused in his inspection of the book and gestured toward the gift he had given Bilbo. "Open it Uncle," he urged.  
  
Bilbo did so, removing the wrapping with care. He held a framed page of fine parchment with Frodo's most careful writing inscribed upon it. Frodo had written out one of Bilbo's favorite poems and had framed it so Bilbo could hang it on the wall of his study to enjoy whenever he pleased. Tears welled in the old hobbit's eyes as he read the words again.   
  
"Thank you so much, Frodo," he said softly. "It's a beautiful gift and I will treasure it always." He mussed Frodo's curls fondly. "Come now, lad, on your feet," Bilbo ordered cheerfully. "This evening we will celebrate out birthday together as we'd planned, eh?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle, we shall," Frodo said happily as he stood and stretched. "Are there many guests coming?"  
  
"Bag End shall be full of hobbits by teatime," Bilbo confirmed. "And no, the Sackville - Bagginses are not attending."  
  
Frodo gave Bilbo an odd look. "Did you invite them, Uncle?"  
  
"No, Frodo," Bilbo responded with a raised eyebrow. "I did not!" A wide grin appeared on the old hobbit's face, accompanied by a ringing laugh. Frodo tried to hold back his own mirth and failed completely, bursting into gales of laughter with Bilbo.   
  
Out in the garden, Sam stopped raking and looked up at the sound. "What do you suppose is so funny, Da?" he asked, regarding the Gaffer with a quizzical expression.   
  
"I wouldn't know, as I'm mindin' my own affairs," the Gaffer said, poking Sam lightly with the handle of his rake. "As you should be."  
  
Sam smiled at the Gaffer and resumed raking. "Yes sir," he said simply, grinning down at the pile of leaves on the ground. Whatever Mr. Frodo and Mr. Bilbo found amusing, Sam was glad to hear them laughing. He looked forward to hearing sounds of merriment through the windows of Bag End in the future and prayed that there would be many more such warm September days to enjoy.   
  
~End~ 


End file.
